bee sting | The Crossing

It was COLD the next morning. Good! There were no mosquitoes. I ate at Fetty’s, the local diner, and talked with Dave, a real life cowboy. He was such a charismatic character. Dave was an individual who seemed to have developed the wisdom of the open range. There was nothing artificial about him. A bright and intelligent gentleman with an 8th grade education. Dave knew a lot more about living than most people with college degrees.

Dave was a fascinating character. So wise, so modest. I could have listened to him for hours. I showed him a picture of Merrianne, and he affirmed, “She’s purty.” I also asked him for marriage advice, as he was successsfully married.

I left Wisdom in good spirits. The weather was hot, but dry. As I zipped down the road to Jackson, I discovered a new insect: the ground bee. I felt a buzzing sound on my forehead, which I assumed to be a fly. Somehow, the insect got trapped under my goggles, and was buzzing around there.

That’s when someone touched a hot match to my left eye. The pain was incredible. Even more incredibly, I didn’t lose control of the bike. On that lonely stretch of road, I had to pull the stinger out of my eyebrow with the tweezers from my Swiss Army knife, and nothing more than my one-inch round helmet mirror.

Although my original trip report said my left eye got stung, it certainly seems like the right eye in this picture. This picture was probably taken at the Dillon KOA.

Jackson, population listed as only 100 on my map, but still had a star indicating that all services were available. Likely my lunch stop.

Coming down from Big Hole pass, I had a 31-mph tailwind. Even though the road was not all that twisty, I had to keep braking to keep control of the bike on the vicious downhill. On my way down, I passed a couple. It took about a hundred yards before I could come to a complete stop and turn around.

Scott and Maria had come from Denver. I felt sorry for them. My tailwind was their headwind. Not to mention the climb that they were soon to face. They were already in their grannies. However, they did have each other, and I was all by my lonesome. Perhaps their situation wasn’t so bad, after all.
big hole pass on montana hwy 278, not to be confused with a pass by the same name in idaho. scott and maria were walking their bikes when i encountered them, according to my journal.

If it was Thursday, I might have gotten free bread!

I reached Dillon, MT, where I stayed at the KOA Kampground. My original journal recorded that it was expensive, at $9.88 including room tax. It was not a Kabin; I pitched my tent.