Working harder, not smarter - Day 23, Ennis to somewhere in the West Fork area

I left my campsite this morning to forage for food at the local grocery. On the way, I met one of the last Trans-Am racers just wandering aimlessly around town. He explained that the headwinds leaving Ennis were so bad that he turned around and decided to wait them out in town. Seeing an opportunity to be more badass than a racer, I loaded up and headed out.

I had an idea what I was getting into, so it took me a while to really get frustrated by the wind. I set little rewards for every few telephone poles I passed, and guessed at the number of lane divider stripes between me and the next feature. I couldn't even distract myself with an audiobook because the wind was too loud and kept ripping the buds out of my ears. Two hours of grinding in my lowest gears only got me about ten flat miles, less than half my normal pace even in hilly terrain. I was very thankful to discover that Cameron, which was nothing more than a post office according to my map, actually had a fully fledged restaurant and bar called the Blue Moon. I locked up my bike and went inside.

I destroyed a $9 Blue Moon Burger and plugged in my laptop, planning to wait out the wind. A group of Missourians (Missourites?) spent half an hour asking me about my trip. I tried to be helpful and friendly instead of exhausted and surly, and was rewarded with beer. They also got the URL of my blog, so if you're reading this, thanks Missourians!

The Missourians left and I spoke with Darcy, a very happy woman who owned the place. She and her husband had moved here from California and literally just bought the town from its former mayor. They turned it into a small resort and had only opened for business last January. At some point I fell asleep in my chair, and Darcy woke me up to offer a spot to stretch out and sleep in back, which I gratefully accepted.

A while later, I woke up to find a blanket on top of me. Darcy mentioned "your friends are here", and I walked out front to see Christian and Jon again. We all sat around talking to bar patrons and getting a drink or two until about 8 PM before setting out again, hoping nighttime would bring reduced winds.

I probably made it about 30 still-windy miles before reaching a downhill section after the sun had finally set. Turns out, it's difficult to judge your speed at night. I ended up going too fast to properly react to road conditions within the distance illuminated by my light, and I hit a wooden wheel chock that caused the most comfortable crash of my life. It was cold enough that I was wearing pretty much everything I had, so I just hit the pavement with a "foomp" and skidded for a while. My rain jacket and helmet were the only casualties, along with a little skin off my elbow and some messed up spoke tension in my front wheel. I stood up, collected my lights, and assessed myself for a concussion - as far as I could tell, everything was fine. The impact even loosened a flood of built-up snot I had evidently been carrying around, which all came out of my nose in a single burst while I was assessing my bike. Thankfully, none of it was blood. Staying still meant getting cold, so I kept going. This time, I kept the diffuser off my light - it was less scenic and the resulting tunnel-vision was uncomfortable, but it allowed me to actually see far enough ahead.

There's basically nothing but scenery in the 74 miles between Ennis and West Yellowstone, and after exhausting myself earlier and then crashing, I decided to stealth camp instead of pushing all the way through to a place that I'd have to pay too much to stay anyway. Eventually, I found a good stealth camping spot and tucked in for the night.

Only one picture today, while the shadows were getting long: