Rocky Mountain High - Wyoming

It's strange, there seems to be a town called Freedom on each side of the Idaho-Wyoming border, roughly two miles apart. I do hope that they feel free to cooperate. We don't have time to worry about this problem, we ride north on US 89 via Hoback Junction to Jackson, where we stop at the famous Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. It's not easy to park our bikes in front of the bar, because this place seems to be the # 1 destination for Harley bikers all over the state, but we finally manage to squeeze our Softail, Fat Boy and Low Rider into the narrow slots that have been left by some considerate bikers. The bar itself features a huge, long counter with the obligatory "lovely" ladies besieging it. In the center there are some pool tables, and deep inside - in the back - some tables for those who come for a meal. Everything looks fake and phony to me, and we take a few photos and then leave. Outside we meet John from Venezuela; he lives in Canada, but during the summer months he comes to Wyoming to work in Jackson. The nearby Teton NP and Yellowstone NP certainly contribute to Jackson being an ideal place to spend one's holidays, but, honestly speaking, having been among normal people so far, I can do without this tourist center, and I am glad to turn the ignition key of my Low Rider and ride out of town toward the Grand Teton mountains.

From far away we can see the captivating Grand Teton skyline rise up to 13,771 ft. above sea level, and when we are coming closer, we are awed by its majestic grandeur. The Grand Teton peak is covered by a snow cap, and the whole jagged mountain range looks forbidding. It was French trappers who gave the mountain its name "Teton", meaning "breast". We prop the bikes at a layby next to the road to admire and pay this granite mountain range respect. We think that this is the ideal time and spot for some good pictures, and since the weather conditions are absolutely perfect, our patient Harleys enjoy a well-deserved break. Finally, we stow away the cameras again and follow the Teton Park Road to Jackson Lake. It is a bit late, really, to enter Yellowstone NP, and since accomodation in the park is rather expensive, we turn east at the park entrance and rent a wonderful cabin at the Hatchet Hotel.

Due to its vicinity to Yellowstone the cabin is not exactly cheap either, but we like it and think it is worth the money ($ 105). And what is also very important - it is a lot different from the standardized motel rooms that we have slept in so far. We unstrap our bags, take possession of the cabin, and then ride back to Grand Teton NP. However, in the last hour or two the weather has changed dramatically. Black clouds have gathered over the mountain tops, and heavy rain sets in. Wasn't it wise to keep our raingear? So we stay dry during this thunderstorm in the Grand Teton park, well, most of us, at least, because Werner doesn't mind his jeans getting wet. Of course, now the visibility is limited to a few miles, and so we cannot really appreciate the view fully. But what has really burned itself into my memory is the fact that the park is bear country: roaming grizzlies can step out of the forest any moment and linger on these narrow park roads. What the h*** am I supposed to do if I ride around a sharp bend and there's a huge, hungry grizzly inviting me for a snack? Luckily enough, the bear is probably lying comfortably warm in his cave not even thinking of any timid bikers in his territory .

When we come back to our cozy cabin, we quickly undress, take a hot shower to get warm again, and see to it that our clothes get dry again. Thanks to Werner's ingenuity, we find out that the bathroom has got a heater, and Werner turns the dial to maximum power, hoping that his jeans, socks and boots may dry more quickly. Instantly the heat and humidity transform our cabin into a sauna, and we close the bathroom door to let the heater work its magic on Werner's boots. But there's still the problem of our wet jackets and trousers, and in the blink of an eye the whole cabin has changed into a storage room for dripping clothes, because we use every hook and nail to hang up our gear. It's still drizzling outside, but there's a decent restaurant not too far away where we can have dinner. Later, we sit together amidst the chaos in our cabin, sip a beer and plan the next leg of our trip.

It is still raining when we mount our Harleys and leave the Hatchet Hotel the next morning, but gradually the weather improves. We show our NP passes at the Yellowstone NP south entrance, collect the visitors' information brochures, which we take between our teeth, and park behind the gate to take out our cameras. The park is simply spectacular, and we see lots of animals which we have seen in zoos, sure enough, but never roaming free. For example, we are waiting in the queue of cars, because a buffalo is grazing close to the road. Of course, everybody gets out of the car to shoot a picture of this gigantic and powerful beast. No surprise - it gets annoyed, crosses the road and disappears behind some boulders. A moment later the road is clear again, all cars have vanished to look for other photographic motifs, when suddenly the buffalo reappears and majestically passes us at very close range (3 m). Whenever anyone sights an animal, cars block the road, people get out and take pictures - well, I don't want to criticize this, because that's what we do ourselves, but it often pays to be patient and wait for the animal to reappear again, and then it's wise to have the camera ready. Just be careful not to get too close to the animals, don't feed or try to touch them - this can be the very last thing you do!

Apart from wild animals, hot springs and geysers are Yellowstone NP's prominent attractions, among which Old Faithful ist the most notorious, of course. It erupts about every 80 minutes, and "Old Faithful" has got its name due to this reliability of eruption. This geyser spouts out more than 800 gallons of hot water up to 180 feet into the air, and among the expectant crowd of tourists hungering for this spectacular show of nature, I am getting ready to videotape this impressive sight. Old Faithful announces its eruption by an increasing sequence of puffs, and I press the button to film the great event. And sure enough, the eruption is awsome, the geyser hurls up hot water and white steam into the blue sky, and the audience goes ooh and aah to express its awe. Then, after a few moments it is over: the fountain collapses, the clouds of steam are blown away by the wind, and while everyone is seeking refreshments, I check my camera only to find out that I have been too stupid to operate the release button properly. Ashamed and disappointed as I am, Werner and Erhard reassure me that they have taken good pictures of Old Faithful, and thus, I am able to place a nice picture of Old Faithful on this page.

From Norris we ride east to Canyon Village and then north toward Tower Roosevelt, but at a gas station in Tower Falls we learn that, due to the recent thunderstorm, the road to Tower Roosevelt has been closed. So we return to Norris and ride to Mammoth Hot Springs. On the way we have an encounter with a black bear, but this proud animal simply ignores us and saunters into the thicket.

In summer time all motel/hotel rooms are usually booked out in the park, and so we steer for the northeast gate to leave Yellowstone NP and look for a room for the night. It is already twilight when we arrive in Silver Gate where we check into the Grizzly Lodge motel. The reception is inside the owner's spacious private living room - a fact we realize too late, unfortunately - and when we sit down to make ourselves a bit comfortable, the owner comes over to explain. But then he finds out that we are German tourists, and being a former US Air Force pilot, he now garrulously babbles on about how he almost won World War II single-handed. After several attempts of escape, we finally manage to back out of the lobby, praising America and especially all American fighter pilots, and retreat to our room - phew. Just around the corner there is the Log Cabin Café, and a grand day like this deserves a grand dinner, I think. So I order smoked salmon, which turns out to be simply delicious. A final beer (or two) on the porch of our motel room helps us to plan the route for the next day, Beartooth Pass, and then we go to bed to get some rest.

The next morning we are up early and get ready for another spectacular pass - Beartooth Pass. We dress warmly, because we expect low temperatures, and this proves to be a wise decision, because we have to put up with 5° C, maybe even less. We stay on US 212 until we reach Cooke City, and then we gradually climb to an elevation of 10,940 feet. A series of gnarled switchbacks takes us up to the plateau's twin summits, from which we have a beautiful view over the mountain range dotted with snow fields. We are far above the timberline, there are no trees, no plants, no life - well, not really, Alpine tundra vegetation does grow here - but the overall impression is that this seems like a desolate, otherworldly place. It is cold, the wind is rather strong, and the air is fairly thin, so it is difficult to breathe if you walk or hike into the wilderness. Hostile and forbidding as the pass may be, it offers stunning views over the jagged mountain range.

Inspite of my warm clothes, I am getting colder and colder, and I welcome the gradually warming air on the winding descent to Red Lodge, Montana. Erhard and I are waiting for Werner on the intersection toward Belfry, but he does not show up. Normally, Werner likes to take the lead, and so we wonder what may have happened. Sadly enough, I don't have a triband mobile phone, and so I left my cell phone at home, because it's of no use in the US. Then, after waiting for some time, I walk over to the gas station opposite the street to phone Werner and leave a message on his answering machine, when he finally pulls into the gas station. Erhard and I must have passed him while he was taking pictures from a hidden pullout. Well, we are happy to be together again, change into lighter clothes (it's quite warm down in Red Lodge), and start our engines to head for Belfry. Riding over Beartooth Pass, we have crossed the border to Montana, and after Colorado, Utah, Idaho and Wyoming, this is the fifth state on our tour now (one more to come).

We are fairly tired at the end of the day because today we have covered 400 miles altogether (rather more than less). - But the day is still young, and we have miles to go before we rest. The gray asphalt line takes us over hills into valleys, up and down, traffic is slack, and we enjoy the changing scenery of pine forests, mountains and valleys of the beautiful Bighorn National Forest. In Buffalo we ride I 90 east via Gilette and Moorcroft. It is only at Devil's Tower when we realize that taking the interstate was quite sensible, because otherwise we would not have reached this natural wonder in time to relish this fantastic sunset.

At Moorcroft we leave I 90 and take US 14 to Devil's Tower National Monument, a nearly vertical monolith which rises 1,267 feet above the ground. Erosion has stripped away the softer rock layers to expose giant Devil's Rock, which is a sacred site of worship for many American Indian tribes. It's getting late, and our hopes are sinking that we can reach this phenomenal block of rock in time to take a picture of it. When we arrive at the entrance gate, no guards are there and we wave our NP passes in front of the video camera to document the right to pass. Then we continue the winding road up to the rock, where we quickly put the bikes on the stands and pull out our cameras.

Luck is on our side, because behind the horizon the sunrays start to throw a wonderfully warm, mild light onto Devil's Tower which turns it into a solid rock of gold. We are still captivated by the grandeur of this sunset, when we notice that there are climbers halfway down the monolith. But while we are discussing if we should notify the rangers, the group of three climbers begin their descent to the foot of the Devil's Tower. Everything seems to be OK, and since it is getting darker and darker we leave this impressive sight to look for a place to spend the night. Sundance seems to be a good choice, but, unfortunately, due to Rodeo Week, all motel rooms are booked out. The young girl at the motel reception is very helpful, though. Her aunt, she tells us, runs a motel in Spearfish, and she offers us to give us her telephone number. She does not know the number by heart, though, and so she looks it up in the directory, writes it down on her hand, and then dials the number for us. A short phone call later we have secured ourselves a room for the night and are on the way to Spearfish - of course, not without having thanked the young lady for her kind help!