Predictably, the Brits (excluding the British couple) were already gone and we dawdled about at our nice little campsite getting ready to go.... On our way out we stopped at the general store for some overpriced coffee (watching one family spend $100+ on scones) and sat in the sunshine talking to Jolly Rancher, who had caught up with us after riding all morning. We relayed our intel about camping reservations and he regaled us with tales on all the interesting things he had found along the way as Ziven had just spotted a pocket knife on the side of the road. We quickly popped down to the marina to soak in some views of the Tetons and then headed away from the campsite along the road, yielding to the bad drivers who slowed randomly for pictures and did not know how to drive around bikers. We traversed the park and passed beautiful lakes and lovely views as well as fire ravaged forests before stopping at a gas station at the edge of the park. We ran into a Tour Divide rider and chatted for a minute, impressed by his speed and relatively old age compared to the other riders we were seeing. We obtained ice cream sandwiches and scarfed them down before heading into the woods and towards Idaho. After turning onto a gravel road and passing through more fire damaged areas, we ran into a Tour Divide rider who asked if we were bike mechanics. She explained what seemed to be a major issue and even mechanically minded Ziven was unable to offer advice, only noting that the next mechanic was the overworked man we had visited in Pinedale.

We rode on through forest and meadowlands and enjoyed the relative flatness of the route. After passing a gorgeous lake filled with lily pads and moss, we spotted a small sign that indicated we were crossing into Idaho! Posing with the sign and being immediately attacked by huge mosquitos, we cut our snack break short and continued onwards, glad to have another state checked off but surprised with how much we enjoyed Wyoming. The gravel road, which had been thickly forested on either side, soon opened up and it felt like we had been spirited into a poster advertising Idaho tourism. Even the air smelled of mashed potatoes, though that could have been my overactive imagination. We swooped down rolling hills, surrounded by greener than green fields of hay and the most pristine farmlands I had ever seen. This went on for a while before we started climbing again and the forest reclaimed us. Ziven and I wound up a small rocky canyon and when we finally descended, found that a small state park was on our route. Kindly waving the entrance fee, we stopped and were sorely tempted to call it a day after seeing the shallow, smooth river flowing over perfectly sized pebbles. We stopped to refill water at a gazebo and ate a snack on the river banks, watching other folks tubing down the river and frolicking in the shallows. We waded in and I snagged a few pretty rocks while we contemplated if we really wanted to continue.

Demonstrating immense willpower, we turned our backs on the gorgeous river and its hospitable campground and continued onwards on a small railroad grade that jutted out from the back of the state park. The railroad grade continued for a while and we went through charming old train tunnels and peered over the edge at the river in the gorge below. The trail eventually became double track and veered away from the river towards flatter farmland. Our only obstacle now was that the material of the road turned periodically into deep black sand that we had to battle through. A couple on an ATV passed by and warned us that this road didn’t go anywhere and, once again, we had to ignore advice from the locals because this was in fact the correct route to our campsite.

Wanting to make it to our destination by dark, we picked up the pace as best we could and struggled along in the sand until the trail finally merged onto a highway and we zipped across to a bar/restaurant/convenience store where we restocked on some snacks before going into the restaurant side. We bashfully asked the waiter if we were allowed to order from the kid’s menu and he obliged, bringing us grilled cheese, carrots, and celery. We happily ate our toddler dinner and then grabbed all of our stuff, pedalling across the street to the campground right off the highway. We spoke with the camp host and managed to get some change for our cash and chose a campsite, heeding his advice that the mosquitos were brutal and rushing to set up the tent. We proceeded to complete all of our chores in furious bursts of out-of-tent time with maximum clothes worn, some Deet sprayed around our ankles, and constantly brushing our legs and blowing bugs off our heads. Eventually we were ready for bed and drifted off for our first and only night in Idaho.