After eating a breakfast of 3 eggs over easy, bacon, wheat toast with strawberry jelly, a side of hashbrowns, 2 glasses of water and 4 cups of coffee, I was ready to leave Yellowstone and begin the Grand Tetons. While the roads through Yellowstone the day before were quite pleasant to bike on, the roads out of the south end of the park were a little less enjoyable. Three miles south of Grant Village, the shoulder dissapeared, so you have to share the road with all the tourists in their overloaded station wagons and rental rvs. For the most part, the drivers have been good and considerate by providing plenty of space between you and them, and even slowing down until traffic is clear on the other side, so they can use the other lane to give you more space. The problem drivers, especially through the shoulderless section of Yellowstone, have been people in pickup trucks pulling 20 foot trailers behind them and people driving rental rvs. Whenever I see an RV coming that has "1-800-Rent-Me" on the side, I head for the bushes. I'd rather take my chances falling into a den of grizzly bears than riding on the side of the road when Cleatis and his family come barreling by looking for yet another Elk in the meadow instead of the road.

Throughout my life, I've been very fortunate to have had the opportunity to travel around the world and to visit some of the most beautiful places on this planet. I believe I am even more fortunate to have been able to ride my bike on two of the most spectacular roads as well. The first being California's Highway 1. Three years ago, I completed a century ride (100 miles) from Carmel down the coast to Cambria. You would be hard pressed to find an artist who could create a landscape as dramatic as the coastline from Carmel to Big Sur and the 400-foot cliffs that plunge into the Pacific. The other highway being the road through Grand Tetons National Park. With the mountains looming over Jackson Lake, their reflections shining off the water, this magnificent highway twists and turns through the flowery meadows and lush hillsides from the opposite side, offering teasing glimpses and unparralled vistas. There are few places in this world that can leave you awestruck, the Grand Tetons is one of them.

That night, the three of us rode past Moran Junction and stopped at a place called "The Hatchet" to spend the evening. Originally we had hoped to stay at a campsite, but there were none between where we were and the top of Togwotee Pass, something none of us felt like climbing that night. So, instead of getting a real hotel room, we ended up renting a "hostel room." The room had one bed, a tv, and a shared bathroom with the other hostel rooms on the floor.

Unfortunately, the room didn't have air conditioning. So far, I've had 3 days where the temperature hasn't been in either the 90s or the 100s. None of the locals ever recall a summer that has been this hot, as the normal temperature is 80 degrees during the summer months, so very few buildings have air conditioning. We were fortunate enough to get a little desk fan from the front desk, but when you have three guys in a 10x12 room, it still gets pretty hot and stuffy. Roger took the bed and Dave and I slept on the floor.

The Hatchett is a fairly new "resort" complex and consists of motel rooms, hostel rooms, a general store, a gas station, a cafe, and a saloon. Roger, Dave and I went to the saloon. As soon as you walked in, you could tell the saloon was brand new, it still smelled of fresh logs and there wasn't any creative limericks scratched into the bathroom walls yet. The main room of the saloon was also surprisingly void of any animal heads attached to the walls. As far as I can tell, the only way to get your liquor license in any western state, you have to have at least 4 animal heads hanging from the wall. I asked the bar tender why the walls were bare, and she assured me that there were 4 heads coming. She then pointed out the chandellier over the pool table, it was made up of at least 40 pairs of antlers. I felt much better.

While we sat at the bar, drinking our ales from the Snake River Brewery, Dave and I began to chat as Roger was talking to a guy next to him that bread dogs to be used for the Iditorod and other major dog-sled races. "So when all of your biking is done with, are you going to try and get a job as a systems analyst again?" I asked Dave.

"Don't know, sort of doubt it. I'm tired of the desk job world. Working for computer companies just sort of suck the life out of you. I spent 13 years at 3Com and experienced all the highs and lows that you can imagine. It was fun while it lasted, but I don't know if I like that lifestyle, plus San Jose is so expensive. I don't need too much, I live in a trailer parked in my friend's yard. I pay him rent and he lets me park it there. I put in my own driveway, have electricity and water. That's pretty much all I need. I got my jeep and my boat parked outside, so whenever I want to go anywhere it's real easy to pick up and go."

"Have you done a lot of bike touring?"

"Done a few trips. Finished the Continental Divide Trail last year with my friend that lives over in Cheyenne. He's the one I'm going to spend three weeks with once I cross the pass tomorrow. We did it in three sections over the last few years. It's a pretty tough trail, not much out there and you run into very few people. I think we ran into about 14 people total. You gotta make sure you bring lots of water too, I think I carried about 26 pounds of water every day, but it was cool. A few years before that, I rode from San Francisco to Pueblo. That was a pretty desolate trail too, we road Highway 50 through Nevada, the world's loneliest highway. Had to bring a lot of water on that trip too or else you're screwed. How about you, first trip?"

"First one, decided to go for the hard one first. Carrying way too much weight though, gonna ship most of it home once I get to Pueblo."

"Pueblo, why not now?"

"Well, guess I made it this far with all of that weight, so I figured a few more mountains aren't going to kill me. This way I'll be nice and strong by the time I hit the flats of eastern Colorado and Kansas."

"Man, you're gonna fly."

"That's the hope."

"What about you, gonna go back to the Internet world when you're done?"

"Don't know. I guess I'm kind of like you, I experienced all the highs and lows and am not too much of a big fan of working 70-80 hour weeks anymore. The excitement isn't there anymore. When I started, we were working towards a cause. We were going to change the world with e-learning. Now, it's just another industry with the same politics and drudgery as every other desk job. Figured I'd pack everything up and buy a bike and just see what else is out there in this country. Guess I have 4,900 miles to think about it."

"Have you been thinking about it?"

"No, not really. Trying not to anyway, I like meeting people and finding out how they live their lives. Maybe somewhere along the way, I'll figure it all out."

"You're looking for an epiphany!"

"That would be nice, but I'm not expecting one. I'm just enjoying what there is to see."

"During my three week break, I'm going up to Montana to help out Adventure Cycling with their 'Cycle Montana' trip. Kinda interested in hooking up with an outfitter and leading tours. My friend in Cheyenne, the guy I did the Continental Divide trip with, and me are thinking about setting something up around here. Sort of a mountain biking, fishing type of outfitter operation. Figured I'd go to Montana and help out with Adventure Cycling to see what all is involved. Then when I get to Florida, I'm going to help run the Hobie Cat National Championships. I've got lots of friends, so I think I'd like to do something outdoors when I'm done. I've had enough of working inside, you know?"