The weather had been threatening rain since we set up camp for the last couple of days, but this morning it was clear with sun and blue skies, a perfect day to head on HWY 130 to Centennial and the chance to see the Snowy Range, a stunning mountain range of white granite with sheer peaks and mirror lakes at the base. I think of it as a "pocket size set of Grand Tetons".
The road wound past Ryan Park and higher, lined with forests littered with beetle kill pines with occasional glimpses of distant valleys and ranges to the south in Colorado. There was very little traffic or bikes, with only the occasional Harley coming our direction. Around a bend we saw three women dressed in Harley gear doing a self timer shot, so Kim sped up to se if she could photo bomb on her bike. She hit the horn as we rode past, the three women spinning around to see us go by. I waved as we passed and continued on. Always nice to see women traveling on bikes - especially alone or in a group like that.
A few curves farther up the road exposed the stunning sight ahead - sheer white mountains with snow patches at the base, The Butterfly's exclamations mirroring my own in the headsets.
We turned in at the top, riding around the small lake at the base of the mountain range and stopping to take in the beauty, as well as grab a selfie or two.
My back had continued to squawk, and in the process of favoring one side I somehow managed to strain a different set of muscles in my left side, so we didn't hike any but planned to return the next day. Motoring on, we reached the little town of Centennial at the eastern base of the range, our destination for the day, to get gas and some lunch since our two-boiled-egg breakfast had worn off with a vengeance.
Outside the gas station, a couple seated on a bench asked where we were from, and we talked a while about Wyoming, our trip and moose encounters. The Medicine Bow forest is saturated with moose and most folks here speak about them frequently to us, as a warning since we are on bikes.
Before we could pull away, another guy came over to talk bikes and share his stories of riding a Triumph around the western U.S. in the 70's, followed by an R-75 BMW which he said was a real pleasure after the Triumph and it's continuous breakdowns. He had also ridden a Royal Enfield around India and wished us well before heading back to the BBQ stand.
After lunch, we decided to check out another campground or two on the way, but changed our minds and decided to ride forest service roads around the north side of the mountain range rather than take 130 back. With The Iron Butterfly in the lead we set off on the dusty roads, well maintained for the most part and slowly climbed to over 10,000 feet before reaching Sand Lake and taking a break, resting on some large rocks overlooking the small reservoir. It didn't take long for the heat of the sun and swarms of mosquitos to get us back on the bikes for cooling air movement.
The roads were lined with thick forest and a lush green carpeted floor, and despite our best efforts to ride with swiveling heads we saw no wild game in the 2-3 hour ride. As the day drew on, the heat and dust in our heavy gear began to take its toll. Fatigue set in a bit and at one point an unmarked T in the road just over a rise caught us unaware, Kim barely getting stopped before going off the road and down into pines. After that we both were wide awake and she was quite happy to have made the sudden stop in heavy gravel.
By the time we got in the vicinity of camp, the shadows were deep on the road and rounding a turn there were two large black bulls on the roadway. We stopped to wait for them but they had little interest in moving. Kim honked her horn a bit, which startled them and one turned to face us. I revved the engine and rolled towards him slightly, which got them both moving forward and trotting ahead of us, but the one bull continued to spin around and face us. I felt a bit uneasy as he seemed perturbed at our presence. Eventually they trotted a ways down to a trail that paralleled the road, about 3 feet off the side. Since they seemed to be fine I motored ahead slowly as far to the other side of the road as possible to pass them. The one bull did not like my presence and whipped around into the road facing me at a 45 degree angle and about 6 feet away, at which point I hit the throttle and shot past him. Kim was not happy at the display and was now stuck behind the bull who stood in the road facing her while I cheered her on from a safe distance ahead. After what seemed like an hour in cow years, he finally turned and followed his buddy further down the road, before climbing off into the bushes. Kim raced past and caught up with me, discussing the event and her general unhappiness at being left behind.
We finally made camp and peeled out our hot, dust filled and heavy gear, dousing ourselves in the ice cold stream water to get some dust off.
With the fire finally going and a hot backpacker meal of peppered beef with rice, the long day set in and we both nodded off.