An hour into the ride, we came across the area known as Alder Gulch. In 1863, a six-member prospecting team found gold about 50 miles east of Bannack and started the gold rush in Western Montana. During the first year of mining, an estimated $10 million of gold was yielded from the surrounding gulch. Also during that time, the towns of Virginia City, Nevada City and Bannack exploded in population. As with any western mining area, along with the money and the people, came the crime and the robbers. I stopped at one building along the side of the road that was called "Rustler's Roost." Apparently, this is where all of the outlaws used to come to make connections and devise plans to rob the wagon trains that would come over the mountains between Virginia City and Bannack. If there was any question as to it's authenticity, all you had to do was look at the bullet holes that peppered the upstairs balcony.

When we reached Nevada City, Natalie, Carl and I decided to stop and look around. Ralie, wanting to make as many miles as possible, chose to go on. Nevada City is an old ghost town and put on display like the old pilgrim towns on the east coast. The buildings were opened up and decorated with authentic artifacts from the 1800s so you could see what life was like inside a typical general store, laundry mat, post office, etc. Nevada City is also where the cast of the PBS documentary "Frontier House" came before filming the show to learn the trade secrets of real frontiersman. The buildings in which the families stayed were left in tact, as well as their furniture and their clothes.

A few miles past Nevada City was yet another mountain pass. I have to say, the TransAmerica Trail is a pretty tough bike route. There has only been a small number of days where I haven't had to climb any mountains and only one day that was completely flat. Usually, there is at least one 1,500 foot mountain pass to climb and often times several. While the scenery is spectacular and the long downhills are awesome, climbing mountains day after day after day with a full trailer of gear, gets to wear you out. I am getting a lot stronger, a lot faster and a lot tanner, but it's still a tough route. With that being said, right now, if given the chance, I'd do it again next year.

Anyway, once I climbed to the top of the pass, I stopped to take a break. While I was resting, Miriam drove by again and stopped to give me water (her timing is impeccable). Since her family was already a good distance ahead of me and they were pressing to get close to West Yellowstone, I told her to tell them not to wait for me. I'd do my best to get to their campsite tonight. So Miriam drove off and I took in the sights and began my descent. I've met many people along the way that say they are making notes of all the cute towns along the way that they want to come back and visit. Some people want to come back to places to camp and others to fish, not me. I'm making notes of all the mountain passes that I want to come back to so that I can ride my unloaded bike down the long mountain descents. I've already climbed up them, so I don't need to do that again, but I would love to be able to fly down these mountains not worrying about my trailer tipping over because I'm going too fast or a big gust of wind might come along. When you're descending down a 7 percent grade for 12 miles, you can pick up some awesome speeds. I want to come back in a foam suit and a motor cycle helmet and just let it rip. Now that would be awesome.

Looking ahead at the bottom of the hill is the imposing site of the Madison mountain range. The Madison's form the southern border of Montana and lead to Yellowstone Park. Fortunately, I don't have to cross them, I have to go around them. I stopped in the picturesque town of Ennis for lunch then began what would be a spectacular ride towards West Yellowstone. The road curves around the mountains, then follows the valley up a gradual 1,500 foot climb through the meadows and ranches along the way. As soon as I made the curve around the mountains and into the valley, my pleasant ride turned to hell.

The winds blew down from the mountains at a constant speed of 40 - 50 mph and had gusts up to 70 mph. My bike slowed to a crawl as I could only ride at about 3.5 miles an hour. Several times, gusts hit my bike from the side, tossing me dangerously close to the edge of the pavement, then immediately back across the shoulder and almost into the road. Twice a gust of wind came and stopped my forward progress, forcing me to clip out of my pedals and having to stand balancing my bike until the wind died down. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, the sun beat down and the thermometer on my handlebar bag read 110 degrees. The wind blew so hard, that my mouth, which was constantly open so I could breath heavy in the thin mountain air, would dry out almost instantaeously after drinking my water. It was the first time in my life that my tounge and the inside of my cheeks felt chapped from the wind. It hurt to swallow.

I could turn around and ride the tailwind back to Ennis, but I was stubborn and wanted to catch up to the Deffenbaughs. Two and a half hours later, I had ridden 11 miles and reached the town of Cameron, or at least the sign welcoming me to town said it was a town. As far as I could see, Cameron consisted of a ranch with a house about a mile off the road and a building that contained a post office, a general store, a cafe, and a saloon. In back of the building were slots for RVs and campers. This was as far as I was going to make it today.