Good boy Alex. Back up to near 100 miles a day.
Sundays are often kind of blah and dead-feeling, and this one was no exception. I exchanged sad farewells (sad for me) with Jill and Margie — actually I didn’t care about not seeing Margie again. I got the addresses of both and Jill’s phone number (she volunteered it) and I promised to write. It’s funny how, in pairs of women, there may be one who’s attractive and personable, but it’s rare that both are.
Feeling more myself today, I set off in the cold of morning feeling adventuresome and glad to be going downhill, on a road splitting through an avenue of pines. Before long my energy faded, the route turned left out into boring typical Wyoming rolling hills, and it settled back into being just another day, the early morning magic gone.
Now in Montana, I stopped for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich near the site of the 1959 earthquake, and some $%%# tourists hassled me with @#!@*& questions.
Stopping frequently but still making good time, I passed quickly through a lot of nothing to Cameron, a little more than nothing, which I was glad had an open cafe. There I saw the ugliest boy I’d ever seen. Truly it was so startling and upsetting that I could only imagine the horrible prison he would find himself in throughout life. I thought of the Elephant Man.
Moving along through Ennis, and the restored ghost towns of Virginia City and Nevada city, which weren’t very ghostly since there were scores of tourists roaming the streets, I met an east-bound cycling couple in Virginia City. As late as it was in the summer, I still met cyclists heading east. Tom and Elaine thought they were at the tail end, but they weren’t by far.
After coming over a seven mile climb east of Virginia City, I was pretty beat, but managed to push the eight more miles on to a KOA in Adler. Had chili for dinner, crashed early. Paid only $2.50 for the campsite.