July 11 - clear skies from here? perhaps.

{Brock]

We woke after a night of sleep at the KOA in Dubois. I really, REALLY wanted to pronounce this "doo-BWAH" but apparently it's "doo-BOYS." There's no accounting for taste.

We stopped in to the local club for a pint before bedtime and learned two things: you can't take your beer into the square dancing room (I hope desperately that Wyoming law mandates a separation of drinking and dancing), and the Rustic has more cowboy hats and Wrangler jeans than anywhere else we have yet been. It didn't happen, but I assumed that if I was to get beat up on this trip, it would most likely have happened here. Fortunately indifference trumped animosity in spite of my socks + sandals combo, cycling cap, and shorts.

A car alarm went off in the neighboring campsite around 11:30, and was met with audible cheers when it was silenced. Unfortunately, the keys to disable the alarm were not found until two more alarm cycles had passed. Camping in the great outdoors this was not.

Morning meant coffee at the local shop across the street from our campground and a breakfast of bagels, peanut butter and marmalade. I was sure to eat three of these combinations to ensure I didn't repeat the performance of my "bonk" where I lost all of my energy and composure a few days before.

We set out between the painted hills outside Dubois and marveled at the natural colors. I listened to the new Lyle Lovett I had downloaded at the coffee shop and realized that there is no better country to enjoy his stylings in than these parts we were traveling through. We enjoyed a long downhill stretch out of town before grudgingly applying ourselves to the exercise needed to proceed to Crowheart, Wyoming.

At the only business in town we met up with a group of cyclists who were traveling the opposite direction on a supported ride to raise funds and awareness for childrens' cancer research. One of the riders had a stuffed Pokemon toy that he was snapping pictures with at various notable locations for a child afflicted with the disease. The group was 27 riders in all and bound for the Oregon coast.

We stopped later at the nicest rest stop I've ever been to on a highway in any state in the union – air conditioned, enclosed bathrooms with fresh water and information posted on bulletin boards for reference.

On the last major climb of the day we had a repeat performance of running from a storm. The air behind us was a solid blue wall reaching to the heavens, an obvious sign that two weather systems were vying for control of the atmosphere. I've heard it is said somewhere in Africa that when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. In our case, when weather systems collide, those on the road without shelter are at the disadvantage. I feared that, as before, the hill we were climbing between sagebrush-covered flanks would be our undoing. We labored to the top and found our momentum as the ground slanted down beneath us, and a long descent carried us parallel to the massive blue and purple storm front that hung over the mountain range in the distance to the west.

I pumped in high gear down the hill (the only time I engage my highest gear) as Terry Gross interviewed the man behind LCD Soundsystem in my ear. The clouds overhead rumbled with loud claps of thunder, but no rain fell. The support van for the cancer riders slowed to warn us of the storm, but we were already painfully aware of the possibilities.

8 miles slid beneath the tires in an uncertain run from the weather. We rolled into the fuel station at Fort Washakie at the very moment the rain began to fall with a fury. Winds blustered at a high speed as we stood beneath the eaves of the service station. A good half hour passed as we waited for the storm to blow over. The employees at the station seemed indifferent to our presence and so we waited until we thought it was safe, watching the wind bend the branches of the trees around us violently. A UPS employee gave us his take on the climate and we thanked him for the advice.

The rain had largely finished, but as we hit the road again, large gusts of wind required us to bank heavily to our right as the westerlies attempted to push is into the traffic lane on the highway. A solid hour of battling the winds brought us to Lander, Wyoming just as the sky was clearing.

The city park offers free camping to anyone who needs it, and this week a rock climbing festival has brought many people into town. We pitched our tents between verdant trees and enjoyed to company of climbers and fellow touring cyclists.

Safeway furnished a dinner of potato salad, all of the fried chicken that the climbers hadn't yet purchased, and ice cream that we enjoyed on the park lawn.

The sky grinned innocently on us as the sun set, pretending that nothing had happened in its blue expanse.