LA MÊME ÉQUIPE!

I woke up to a wet and wondrous morning. When I crawled out of my tent, Paula had a coffee waiting for me. It did not take long for her to whip up an egg and ham sandwich. It was a beautiful breakfast. After my mini-meal, I packed up my gear. Paula and I said goodbye, and the road was ready for me. Ten minutes later, I arrived in the city of Alpine. My ideal situation was to sit down with a coffee and something small to snack on. The best option was to sit on the ground outside of a Subway. I consumed a six-inch turkey club with pepper jack cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, pickles, jalapenos, and mayo. After adding some more bars to the energy meter, I returned to Highway 26. 

Almost immediately, I found the forest. This route was littered with vrooming vehicles. There were RVs of all shapes and sizes, jacked-up trucks pulling various sporting equipment, motorcycle gangs, mom mini-vans, and many more. Everybody loves camping! We were rolling along the snake river, which was also filled with various watercrafts and fishers. About twenty miles of fine foliage later, I arrived in Hoback. The market was plentiful, and I selectively picked my afternoon meal. This included a turkey sandwich wrap, a brownie Clif bar, and a beer. After eating, I cycled another thirteen miles to Jackson Hole. This town was in turmoil. The roads were clogged with the aforementioned vehicles. Pedestrians packed the streets and restaurants. 

I managed to find a beer garden near the main square. For a moment, I watched the chaos and enjoyed an IPA. There are twenty-five-plus hotels in Jackson, and every single one was flaunting the "no vacancy" sign. They were overpriced anyways, so I gladly biked out of town in search of primitive camping. The word on the street is that all the campsites were at capacity. A few miles out of town, I arrived in Teton National Forest. As I biked further down the route, my hopes dwindled. Every passable primitive camp spot was obstructed by a no camping sign. Even though I was confident that the campgrounds were packed, I made my way to the closest one. Sure enough, I arrived at Gros Ventre (big belly in french) Campgrounds to a "full campsite" sign. 

Regardless, I passed the check-in point, pretending that I had already secured a site. For several minutes I roamed the grounds searching for a friendly face. To my disbelief, I saw a familiar emblem on two foldable lawn chairs. It was the black and gold Hawkeye insignia. I approached the site and explained my story. Micheal and Misty welcomed me with open arms. They let me pitch my tent behind their territory and invited me to dinner. I was gracious enough and just ate a can of soup and some peanuts from my pantry. 

After getting to know each other, I made my way to the river for a bath. It was absolutely freezing but better than being stinky. After my cleanse, Michael and I drove into town for beer and firewood. We chatted about politics and photography during our voyage. When we got back, Michael lit up the fire, and we started our beers. The conversation shifted back to our college days. We talked about Iowa City and compared our experiences. Suddenly, the wind was going wild, and the rain was not far behind. We retreated to our tents. What a wonderful world full of teammates and kindness.