Day 49 - Clepto clouds steal early morning sunshine

We saw the rain coming last night, and yes it lightly glazed everything within a 10 mile radius, a mountain rain. Fortunately for us the rain ceased and the stars glared for the reamainder of the night for our seven thousand foot slumber. Come morning light we see low flying clouds that glow brightly but chill our crawl from polyester cocoons. Slowly to breakfast and even slower towards our chariots of steel and rubber. A nice bakery, more a face bakery, really just another restaurant facade giving the yuppie tourist something "natural" and "healthier." Maybe I am being a littlt too harsh, but these tourists rings are wildly expensive and shameful. I digress, we load the cycles and hit the road, after that summit yesterday we feel the downhills coming. Now with the sun on our faces and rain a lost memory, only the second good rain we have seen all summer, the road an easy story entertains us for awhile but antsy pants grow tight and itchy
when we are surround by hundreds of hot springs.

After yesterday and our first real expirience with a natural hot spring our souls are eager and muscles are weary to see as many as we can. With Sam's lupus like symptoms we have time to stop early. Bonneville campsite, located convieniently on warm spring creek we seek hot water and pools of mineral rich tubs. Finding exactly that we break down to the skinny and submerge. Like most of our endevours, we over take the pool and run the joint for quite some time. As usual some brave soul has the undying desire to find out what the hell these three dudes are up to and we find someone, who, being of similar demographics almost seems like he came with us from Athens. Just a traveler of both time and space, first and last time I will quote Led Zepplin, his name is Michael and we have hours of conversation and a few good meals to share with one another.

Up late and wrinkled like prunes we drag our bikes about a quarter mile down a hiking trail and set out our reverse map of the stars and lay to the tune of rushing waters and a light breeze. Goodnight moon, even if you are only partly there.

Miles: some distance from Stanley

Morale: We like this place anymore and we become campground bums. Sell the bikes and wish home a happy future.