Day 148: 42.03 miles, 3:40 hours, Yellowstone National Park (Madison Junction Campground), WYOMING
[ MAP ] [ NATIONAL PARK MAP ]

The old guy wandered over to me as I was eating my late breakfast this morning. The last time he'd visited Yellowstone was fifty years ago. Not much has changed since then apparently. I forget why he came over in the first place, maybe it was to give me a weather forecast; lovely today, though a bit fresh. By the end of the week though, it'll definitely feel like fall and the cold weather will start in earnest. Told me if I get past Salt Lake City I should be fine.

The old guy started telling me stories about his younger days. He told me about the real mountain men that people only saw when they came into town every few months to stock up on necessities. He told me how he'd given up hunting after accidentally being shot at twice. He told me a story about a guy accidentally shooting his mother who'd been wearing a bright orange day-glo hunting jacket at the time. Plus a few other stories. Made me stop snickering pretty quickly about the run-in I'd had with the trigger-happy redneck at Good Hope Lake.

When he was in his twenties he used to go hunting with his father-in-law out in the M.O.F.N.. They used to take a jeep with a horse trailer into the forest as far as they could go. Then they'd unload the horses and ride for another two days into the wilderness. He told me how one particular night in the fall they were sitting around the campfire and they hear a loud bang followed by a hideous animal-in-agony sound. Couldn't be a bear they figure; it wasn't the right time of year and they're not so active at night. Pretty soon a man walks up to campfire carrying just a saddle and his rifle. He'd accidentally shot his horse!

I tenderly rode into the park just before ten. With every pedal stroke it felt like the muscle in my left shin was ripping apart. It was slow going and pretty soon I'd decided to only make it as far as the first, and only, open campground in the park. At one point, I planned to go for a bit of a wander to see the scenic hot pots but as I hopped off my bike I realized it wasn't going to happen. I could barely walk. I could barely hobble. It was painful.

When I got to the campground I had to walk using my bike as a support. The park ranger was sympathetic and generous. A few minutes after signing me in she walked over with a reclining chair and told me to put my feet up. She offered a share of the firewood and told me to set my tent up under a tarpaulin that they'd tied between some trees. I reclined for a good hour or so, contemplated a fire but didn't build one, and set up my tent under their tarp. It was good. It took me ten minutes to hobble over to the toilets which were only fifty metres away.

I'm scared that I may have done some serious damage to my leg – I've never felt anything like this before. I should be off my legs and resting for several days. With bad weather coming at the end of the week, it's not an option. If I can't handle at least another fifty miles tomorrow without it feeling worse I may have to get out my "TIRED AUSSIE..." sign. I've got three passes of the Continental Divide in front of me tomorrow, the highest of which is 8391 feet. If I can ride...

Day 149: 87.73 miles, 6:28 hours, Grand Teton National Park (Signal Mountain Campground)
[ MAP ] [ NATIONAL PARK MAP ]

Yesterday I wasn't so impressed by Yellowstone, especially after seeing the other national parks that this country has to offer. This morning I changed my opinion. It was extremely foggy and all the hot springs and mud pots seemed to add to the ominous ambience. Two bison strode out of the mist on the other side of the road and I carefully rode past them. Also spotted a tan-coloured fox with a bung hind leg limping through the grass.

I got to Old Faithful Geyser only to find that it had just gone off and wouldn't go off for about another seventy minutes. I killed time with a few phone calls and had a coffee. Watched the geyser erupt for a few moments and then limped back to bike. As I got to my bike, I hear someone behind me:

"Now here's a man who knows how to travel right".

I turn around and there's an old man, about eighty years old, hobbling, as badly as I was, with his wife by his side. He took my photo with his new digital camera and offered to send it to my folks (though not by email - he hadn't worked that one out yet). He told me how he'd broken his hip twenty years ago. He'd been training for a supported bicycle tour from Missoula, Montana to Alaska via the Cassiar Highway. All of a sudden a dog runs out in front of his bike, colliding with his front tire and causing him to fall onto his side. When he tried to get up he found that he couldn't move his hip or leg. After getting his hip replaced he decided to restart his training. His first ride was just a painful one mile ride down his street, the second ride was for two. Then he did a five mile ride, eventually after some time, a fifty mile trip; camping out overnight and then riding back the next day. "Sign me back up for that ride" he told them. And he did it. When he got to Alaska he thought he should keep exercising to keep his hip in shape. But after only five miles of riding he would be in agony. Turned out that he'd actually worn out his replacement hip. He's got a second hip now, and he's still going.

I took the riding very easy today, with the SPD pedals I was able to do most of the pedal turning with my right leg. When I occasionally had to rise from the saddle, I made my thigh and knee do all the work, rather than using the foot to do any work.