In the beginning there were some bikes. And then there was an idea. “We should ride these bikes!” we said. “We should ride them somewhere warm, with awesome trails and spectacular scenery.” And so we drove south to Moab, Utah. And we rode the bikes in and around Moab. But first, we had to get there…
We drove down via Fernie, where the two Australian-Canadian boys got to hang out together, and discuss the issues they’ve had deciding between cricket and hockey as the most appropriate sport to follow.
The road trip continued on through Montana, to the hippy town of Missoula. There we stayed a night in an enormous bohemian bike-loving share house, where jazz concerts regularly occur, and where musical instruments, artwork, old computers and bicycles were likewise strewn about the place. Missoula itself was a wonderful hippy town, and I went for a run up to a letter M on a hillside – the letters on hillsides were quite a common theme throughout the states we travelled through.
After Missoula we travelled on through Butte, to Bozeman, and had a lovely stay in nearby Belgrade.
The following morning it was on to Jackson, Wyoming, skirting the edge of Yellowstone National Park rather than driving through (as the roads had not been ploughed for opening yet). We were snowed on in Wyoming and Idaho when we weren’t being rained on, but the scenery we could see peeking out from the clouds seemed nice enough.
And then it was onwards to Salt Lake City, Utah, where we rendezvoused with Brendan, and spent a night in the basement of the lovely Jeremy and Pam, where the Moosling had a good time playing with their Star Wars Potato-Head figurines. The next day we were to drive to Moab.