I could be ashamed of myself right now... when you stare up from the bottom of Beartooth Pass, you tend to poop your pants a little... and it's squishy and unflattering... and so you take the alternate route, down south to Cody... you are a pansy. You are me.
Or are you me?
You're not a pansy, because, low and behold, what's this-a here squiggly line on my map? It's as if the cartographer had a nasty little epileptic episode for a good half inch. But there are no brackets to denote a pass. There is no elevation listed. Well damned if it isn't the NASTIEST, STEEPEST, HOTTEST, and to be fair, most beautiful damned pass I've crossed thus far. It was a terror of an uphill slog- granted, no Beartooth, but I'm not exaggerating when I make the outlandish claim that it was 5600 vertical feet straight up, no switch backs... Honestly, I don't know how much I climbed, but I know that there was a wicked, 7% grade that followed after the summit (my mantra on the climb? "What goes UP, must come DOWN") for a good 11 miles. Then it was a rolly, sweaty, black fly-swatting climb through the Wyoming sagebrush to drop me in Cody, WY. I'll put in pics when I can... but the librarians coming to KILL MY COMPUTER!
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