Instead of heading due south into the very popular town of Jackson Hole, WY, we decided to peel off to the southeast into the Wind River Mountains for an unplanned and tangential visit to Lander, WY.  Basically, there were two reasons for doing this.  First, Larry Stevens from Smith, who happens to own a second home there, recommended that we make the journey on the basis that there were some pretty decent mountain biking trails there, and even some that were very suitable for singlespeed idiots like me.  Apparently, the legendary singlespeeder, Scott Van Orman, lives in Lander and is responsible for a good portion of the trails that have been constructed in that neck of the woods.  There’s even an annual mountain bike festival in Lander, that alone serves as validation that the trails ought to be pretty decent.  Second, I happened to see on a map somewhere along our journey that the gravesite of  Sacajawea was supposedly located just to the north of Lander.  I have been loosely infatuated with Sacajawea since I learned about her in the Grand Targhee area of Idaho/Wyoming for essentially two reasons.  First, who doesn’t like saying “Sacajawea”???  When we were on a trip with Susan and Simon up in that area a few years ago, Sacajawea was the word of the weekend.  When in doubt, it was “Sacajawea” rolling off the tips of our tongues.  Second, as we have traveled around the west, her name seems to appear everywhere, and hundreds, if not thousands, of businesses, ski lifts, truck stops, and other enterprises are named after her.  Given that we have “all the time in the world on our hands”, and that we needed to learn more about this lengendary woman, we decided to make the diversion almost on a whim. We made the beautiful and scenic drive along Route 26 and the Wind River, through Dubois, and into the small town of Fort Washakie.  What gorgeous country…alpine environments on the south side of the highway, and red rock desert on the north side of the highway.  It was like driving through Yellowstone and Moab at the same time, with the highway bisecting these two beautiful and uniquely different landscapes.  As we entered Fort Washakie, we followed rather cryptic signs to the “Sacajawea Cemetery” out in the middle of nowhere on “Cemetery Road”.  Seemed logical to me.  A few miles later, we arrived at the cemetery.  There are a ton of gravesites in this cemetery, mostly local Indians, yet it was fairly easy to pick out the location of Sacajawea’s grave…the headstone was about 5 feet tall and had a large American flag flying in front of it.  Her two sons are also buried beside her.  Just outside the cemetery, there is also a very large,  bronze statue of Sacajawea, probably 9 feet tall and clearly not of the “actual size” variety, but again, she is legendary.  On either side of the statue are plaques that tell a short story about Sacajawea how she guided the Lewis & Clark Expedition 3,000 miles across the country in search of the Pacific Ocean.  Just to be clear, Susan Richter has forgotten more about Sacajawea than I will ever know.  And at the risk of annoying Susan, I think it’s fair to tell the rest of you a little bit about this incredible young woman.  When Sacajawea joined the expedition in 1803, she was  a mere 15 years old, married to a French fur trader, and had an infant son.  Sacajawea, with her family in tote, guided the expedition across the country, acting as interpreter, translator, and guide through an area largely occupied by the Shoshone Indians.  It’s quite likely that without Sacajawea, the expedition never would have made it to the Pacific Ocean.  She must have been a very cool person, truly legendary, and if she were around today, I would love to buy her a beer.  For those wondering, Sacajawea lived to be 100 years old.  Oh, and I almost forgot…while we were standing at her grave, we heard a very loud neigh from a horse, less than 100 yards away. A reminder, we were in the middle of nowhere, and it was quiet, so the horse more or less startled us.  We spun around, only to find a male Indian with a long black ponytail on top of horse, barebacked, just outside the fence to the cemetery.  Before we could both say “WTF”, the Indian slapped the horse on its side and they more or less disappeared across the adjacent field as fast as they arrived.  We looked at each other in amazement, wondering if Sacajewea had anything to do with that stunt.  It was totally spooky, so we hauled ass out of the cemetery to our rig and departed pronto for Lander. As we drove away, we still couldn’t quite figure out where that Indian came from, nor could we figure out where he went. Creeeeepy…

Lander gets its own paragraph, it’s really that special.  We camped in Sinks Canyon, yet another state park and/or landmark that I picked off a good, old-fashioned paper map.  How liberating, dangerous, and old-school!  I remember asking myself, “what the hell is a sinks canyon, anyway?”  We grabbed a great site within only a stone’s throw to the beautiful Middle Popo Agie River (don’t ask me how to pronounce that, it’s too much work for my retired brain).  What a gorgeous canyon this river had created…full of huge boulders, and steep granite and limestone cliffs.  Are we really in Lander?  It was an awesome spot, and it only got better as we learned more.  We pulled off into an area called “The Rise”, mainly because the sign said there was a “trout pool” located nearby.  I remember saying, “yeah, right, a trout pool in the middle of nowhere, what a crock of shit”.  Wow, was I ever wrong.  We walked out onto this wooden perch, only to find an enormous pool of gin-clear water some 30 feet below us.  The pool was full, and I mean “full”, of some of the largest rainbow and brown trout I have ever seen.  And I am not talking about the ones measured in inches, I am talking about the ones measured in pounds, several of which were over 10 pounds.  We bought some pellets and enjoyed watching the fish go crazy over them.  Yes, it felt dirty, but it was pure fun.  Anyway, the reason they call this the Rise is because the water that forms the pool is like a large spring, in that it comes up from the bottom of the pool from the bedrock.  Not entirely uncommon, for sure, but the unique part to this spring is that it is actually the continuation of the Middle Popo Agie River.  Huh, an underground river?  Yup, that’s exactly what it was.  The river “sinks” into the limestone rock about 1/4 mile up the canyon, then it “rises” here at this pool.  And the pool has giant trout?  Am I dreaming?  Nope, all very real, all very cool, albeit the trout are protected from idiots like me.  We had never seen anything like it.  By the way, we stopped at the sink up the street, and sure enough, the river hits the limestone wall and then it just disappears.  For a former environmental engineer who always told people that “there is no such thing as an undeground river”, I must apologize.  They apparently exist, and I want a refund from the University of Massachusetts Engineering Program for their educational oversight.  The town of Lander was very cool, if not hip, and we just loved the vibe we got from the young people who call it their home.  We had one of the best (authentic) hefeweizens we have ever had at Lander Brewing Company…yes, it was easily growler-worthy.  We pulled off two great mountain bike rides and barely scratched the surface of the trail system.  We rode Johnny Behind the Rocks and Brewer’s Trail up Sinks Canyon.  Both were exceptional.  The JBR trails were tops on my list because that network is the one developed by Scott Van Orman, the legendary singlespeeder.  We did a great 5+ mile loop with a nice mix of climbing, desert, and technical (hardcore skull-and-crossbones, Susan),  After we were done with this ride and we were getting our stuff together at the trailhead, a guy came skidding down into the parking lot with a trailer and a chainsaw attached to his bike.  We chatted it up, he invited us to a trail construction day on Saturday, and then he simply introduced himself to us as “Scott”.  Huh, that couldn’t be Scott Van Orman, could it?  One look at his geared sissy bike and I said “no way, I won’t even ask, it couldn’t be him with all those fancy gears”.  So I didn’t, and I regret it. Before I started this blog, some 4-5 days later, I Googled him, and sure enough, it was Scott Van Orman (SVO).  Shit, we were talking with Scott Van Orman and I missed the opportunity to talk single gears with a legend.  The story of my life.  Then again, he probably took one look at me and said “what’s this old, fat guy doing riding a singlespeed on trails that I made famous?”  Scott, if you ever read this, I’m sorry I didn’t take a risk and say “hi”.  Thanks for anchoring the singlespeed lifestyle.  By the way, SVO recommended the Brewer’s Trail, which we rode the next day, and he was spot-on.  We rode the part of the trail that is above 9,000 feet, and although our lungs hated it, our oxygen-starved brains loved it.   Thanks, SVO, you rock.

The short(er) story is that we are still reeling from how cool Lander actually is and was, and we are super glad we decided to give it a try.  We will definitely return someday, it was really that cool.  In closing (I know, finally), if anyone ever meets a woman named Sacajawea, could you please let us know how to get in touch with her so we can buy her that beer?  Y the way, I actually think it was her on that horse near the cemetery, for the record.  And if anyone ever runs into SVO, please tell him about our blog and tell him that he met the fat, old guy writing all this garbage in the parking lot of JBR.  Cheers!

Addendum 9/24/18: We just learned from our good friend, Jennifer Chesney, that she was actually born in Lander. What a surprise! And the crazier thing is that today is her birthday! Happy Birthday, Jennifer!!!! Further proof that Lander is a cool place, made possible by extra cool people like Jennifer. Jenn, when can we meet in Lander? It’s calling you back in that new, fancy-pants rig of yours. 😀