7/12
Seeing Paula’s family was a great addition to the trip. It was a 4 hour drive for them to come meet us in Rawlins, and it worked out rather well. We ate enormous amounts of food, they restocked our dried mango supply and we were able to spent almost a full day together.
It is so hot in this part of Wyoming right now that we had two options: leave super early or super late. Early just was not going to happen in our state, and her family was there, so we left very very late.
Breakfast was at the hotel, where all you can eat meant we were extremely full. Next was lunch at Cappy’s which also left us quite full and satisfied. We said goodbye to the family as they headed off back to Salt Lake around 1:30pm. Afterwards Paula and I pedaled over to City Market to restock our food supplies–no major towns a couple of days. We bought some fresh fruit and candy to keep our stomachs busy during the afternoon. As we sat at the City Market we watched the shadow from the buildings grow, signalling the descent of the sun towards the horizon. But it was still very hot and the next 130 miles have no hope of shade.
The shade eventually got to hot, so we rolled across the parking lot to visit Pizza Hut. A small veggie pizze and large alfredo pasta dish later we were completely full for the 3rd time today.
We planned on leaving Rawlins at 5pm. As we rolled past the bank the marquee read exactly 5:00. We were loaded with enough water to get us to Atlantic City without searching out or pumping the somewhat unreliable sources in the basin. For us this meant two 64 oz. bottles on the back of the bob, 2 full camelbaks (90 oz and 40 oz), 2 20 oz waterbottles and an ’emergency’ 32 oz nalgene. The map recommended 3-4 gallons per person–yikes.
It was hot for the first 15 miles of pavement out of town. Traffic was moderate, but we had a wide shoulder. We were climbing but making good time. I could not wait for the sun to set, though.
We saw our first anetelope on the highway, chewing away at grass on the side of the road. He was not at all concerned by the speeding cars passing him. But as soon as we got near he jumped up, scooted under the fence and was running across the hillside.
Just as the shoulder narrowed we crossed the continental divide and coasted down a huge downhill. Since we were now going 25 mph only a car or two passed us on the narrow road. Our turn was at the bottom. Still on pavement, but with no markings and a deserted road. However, there was an SUV with bikes parked there. Inquiry led to meeting a group who was section riding Wyoming only, and with a support vehicle. They told us to bring plenty of water (like we could do anything about that now) and that it was quite beautiful out there. They still had some stragglers coming in, I guess.
The miles flew by on the pavement was we pushed further into the vast, barren basin. No trees, very little water, but plenty of wildlife and plenty of dirt roads. 17 mph was the order of the day, and directly in front of us the sun slowly continued it’s descent. I couldn’t believe how hot it was even at 6pm. In the afternoon this would be grim indeed. Riding out here in a strong headwind would also be grim indeed. In the evening we found what we were looking for: calm wind. It seemed a bit unlikely leaving blustery Rawlins, but sure enough by around 7 pm or so it was quite still.
So still, in fact, and so temperate, that we just kept riding. That was exactly the plan. It was amazing to watch the sun set out in the basin. With no trees, only distant mountains and very clear air we could spin our heads 360 degrees and marvel at the sunlit clouds surrounding us. We felt small in this huge place.
We rode without lights until well after 9pm. Twilight is such a peaceful time, especially out here. Finally Paula wanted to stop to set up the lights, then, disaster–we couldn’t find her light. After searching we gave up and concluded it was left in the motel. She rigged up her reading light to illuminate the area just in front of her, then we rode side by side, sharing my light. This actually worked really well. We made it to the end of sandy Sooner road with no problems. We stopped there to eat a PB&J sandwich, then debated about continuing on. We decided to keep it rolling for at least an hour or so. An hour now meant an hour less sun tomorrow on the pull to Atlantic City.
The road was mesmerizing. The led light is not quite enough to see details clearly, so we rode somewhat in a daze, a small bubble of existence in a vast area of nothingness. We ticked off another 13 miles in the dark, then decided that midnight was enough–we should pitch our tent and get a bit of rest.
No dinner (our mega meals of the day had done us well)–just sleep. After we jumped in bed several trucks drove by. We puzzled over where they were going and what they were doing out here at this hour as we faded off to dreamland.
67 miles, 2600 feet of climbing (flat!)
7/13
I awoke to a couple more trucks at 5:15am. I was rested, but my head wanted to remain fixed on my pillow, not suspended by my neck. 20 minutes later I rolled out of the tent to make us Oatmeal. Paula also soon stirred, packing up the gear in the tent. We were lethargic for a while, but were rolling in the cold morning air by 6:30.
Now we could see what we were riding through. It was beautiful, but it seemed to never end, nor really change. We’d look ahead at our road and think, “that will be us…. in 20 minutes.” Progress seemed slow, but we averaged over 11mph. The terrain was mostly flat (the flattest we’ve seen outside of the very beginning in New Mexico), though it did roll at times. We crested the divide and dropped out of the basin onto the west slope. But things didn’t change much.
We must have seen at least 60 antelope out there. They kept running and running along side us, crossing in front or scooting under fences. They are incredible creatures to watch at full speed. They must love to run, because they seem to do it at the drop of a hat.
As the sun finally rose enough to assault the eyes Paula searched for her glasses. She found them scratched in her rarely used front handlebar bag pocket. “I wonder what scratched them?” You guessed it, our other head light–doh! Better than leaving it at the hotel, I suppose.
The miles piled on, but the morning air made them so much more bearable. Our first stop was about 20 miles from our destination–we had 42 behind us already. We ate PB&Js that would bring us home, all while sitting in the not-quite-too-hot-yet sun. When we hopped on the Pony Express / California Trail we met a group of horseback riders doing the Pony Express in its entirety. Their support driver was fun to talk to. We spent a bit too much time chatting, because when we left it was getting far too hot!
The stragglers of the pony express group were about 5 miles behind. We stopped and pulled off the dirt road to let them pass (common trail courtesy). As the last woman passed she asked us, “How many miles have you been?” Others in the party had earlier asked how far we had ridden that day, so I responded, “About 55.” She immediately retorted, “We’ve got 800, starting at Carson City.” “Oh, cool, well, we’ve done about 1500 from Mexico.” And I should have said, “and we’re the ones doing the work, instead of your animals.” Their horses were beautiful creatures, and tough too, long distance horses that just don’t know when to quit. One of the other women commented that horses were meant to travel across the country. I thought, “yeah, but not with you on its back.”
A few more miles brought us to the sweetwater river, flowing strong. I was tempted to jump in, but we faced a nearly 1000 foot climb and it was already quite hot. So we pressed on. My arms nearly melted as we pedaled up towards the Wind River mountains and the town of Atlantic City. But we were saved by a desert cloud, and just in time. I could see it ahead on the road, so I pedaled as though racing to reach it. Probably not the best strategey, but it was quite a relief. I waited in the cloud shade for Paula to catch up. The clouds held all the way into Atlantic City, which was exactly what we needed.
We rolled into Atlantic City around 1:30pm with plenty of (hot) water to spare. I drank at least 7 glasses of lemonade at the mercantile/restaurant along with mozzarella sticks and a ham/cheese sandwich.
Unfortunately we waited in the sun (an hour or so) for the owners of the Miner’s Delight B&B to return. But it was worth the wait. Debby and Ken were a riot to talk to and were very kind. We rented a cabin from them for $50, but spent most of our time in their lodge talking about all sorts of things. They were just good, hardworking western people. As long as the conversation stayed away from talk of people from the middle east, things were ok. It is interesting to meet very kind hearted people who still are so ignorant in some ways.
Now, for sleep, and we still need to figure out what the plan is for riding to Boulder/Pinedale tomorrow!!
69 miles, 4200 feet of climbing
7/14
We were asleep before the sun was completey set, then awake fairly early. We opted out of the breakfast with Ken/Debby, which would have been great except that it wasn’t until 8pm and would likely entail talking to 9, and a rolling time of closer to 10. We were a bit slow to rise from our near hibernation, but we rolled by 7:30am.
In my mind the day’s ride started at South Pass City, which is the beginning of the next Adventure Cycling map. It was 4.4 miles, so I considered it a mere formality….. not so, you fool. It took probably 45 minutes of steep rollers before were climbed away from South Pass City. It would have been an interseting historical lesson, but at 8 o’clock it was neither open nor were we interested in spending the time while the sun was rising ever higher. It was already getting hot.
The paved highway 28 was still a ways, and a bit of frustration grew in me, wanting to get started with the ride. That 4.4 mental starting point business really shambilized me. Once we turned onto dirt again at the historic South Pass (where the trails Oregon, Mormon, Pony Express and Overland met to cross the continental divide), I started feeling better. I felt some link to my ancestors who traveled across the Mormon trail, pulling a load of my own and putting in big miles. Our accomplishment pales in comparison to crossing with a handcart or wagon, of course, but there are similiarities. I am filled with pride at my ancestors, though also with a bit of pity.
It is a good thing my frustration level decreased, because the following section was as slow as can be. We climbed up through never ending rollers… netting about 1000 feet, but over 20 miles. At 35 miles the sun was beginning its assault, there was still no shade, and we needed a break.
We found a perfect spot at “little sandy creek.” By hopping over a side creek we were able to access some trees (first for a while) where we could make a sandwich and lie down. It was tempting to stay and nap, but we pushed on instead.
The road we cycled on was realy nice. The snow capped wind river mountains were to our east, treating us to some of the most magnificent views of the trip. The view was constantly there since there were no trees, but also constantly changing as we made progress across the range’s western flank.
About 60 seconds after we left our lunch stop we cruised a downhill, gaining speed for the corresponding uphill, but at the bottom Paula’s tire spit air and slime all over her rack and the road. It was such a large puncture that the air coming out was moving the dirt and rocks around on the road after she stopped. It must have been a nail or glass, but fortunately it was right on the top of the tube. So, it was slime to the rescue once again. I was very skeptical, but after letting the slime sit on the hole (it also ripped a hole in her tire) I pumped it up and listened in amazement as I heard no air escaping. I put it up to 40 psi or so, which held all the way to Pinedale, some 50 miles later.
After not having to change a tire for the second time (same tire as the Cochetopa Pass flat), I was quite happy. We rode more climbing rollers then finally hit a downhill, saying goodbye to the awesome Wind Rivers vistas. We crossed big sandy creek running strong. On the other side the road turned to a sandy mess. Fun and interesting riding, as long as it did not last for the remaining 12 miles to the pavement!
In the distance we saw two blobs that looked like they could be cyclists. One toppled over in the sand, stopped for a while, then continued. Jen and Vick were cycling N to S, had two companions behind them, and had somehow hooked up along the way and were now all riding together. They were fun to talk to, and the clouds had just rolled in, allowing us a few minutes of respite from the sun. We noticed a bit of a different attitude in these riders compared to the bigger adventure cycling group. We were in the middle of a ‘horrible’ section of sand, but they were happy and not complaning about it. They didn’t tell us about how they had been in headwinds (and that we’d be in tail winds).
Vick started his journey in Anckorage, and will be riding all the way to Argentina, using the GDMBR for only a short section. Amazing. He rode through Canada including Banff, but said he liked this area better because of the wide open spaces. I agreed, but I also said I was looking forward to getting back into some trees.
They told us that the sand did not last too much longer (and we told them the same), which was good. We said goodbye, then piloted our rigs from left to right, continually swerving to find firmer ground. Soon enough the road did get better, but it varied from washboard to sand to firm.
Around this time–just when we needed it–big clouds rolled in to serve us up a barrier from the sun. Of course with the storm clouds came winds, stiff headwinds, of course, so it was a mixed blessing. Actually I was happy for it since the last few days of riding have been so hot.
We hit the pavement, then saw the other two of Vick and Jen’s group. We didn’t talk long because the mosquitos were thick. It was also late and they needed to get all the way to little sandy creek (they must have had a very late start). But they were nice enough. I liked their custom (hand) painted bike frames.
It was 18 miles of pavement to Boulder, where we had planned to stay that night (75 miles from Atlantic City). But there was only a small cafe (where we ate once, which was good, but enough) and an Inn. We neede groceries and had heard that the Dutch couple (or one of them) was ahead of us and going to Pinedale to camp. It was only 12 more flat, paved miles, so we pushed on. It was an easy hour’s ride, thankfully with no wind, to Pinedale. All the motels had no vacancy, so it was a good thing we weren’t looking for one. The oil rigs are working this summer, so all the employees are staying in the motels, I guess. Boom and bust.
We cycled to the west end of town to find the campground quite full of trailers. But it seemed quiet enough and there were the dutch cyclists. We talked and laughed for a while before Paula and I headed out to find groceries. The big store was closed, but we were able to get what we really needed (bread for sandwiches) from the subway in the gas station.
87 miles, 5000 feet of climbing
7/15
We invited the dutch cyclists to ride with us, however far, and they happily accepted. We are coming off a good sized strech of long/hard days, so we were in need of rest. We were up fairly early, but slow to get things together and even slower to leave. One reason was the weather: overcast skies and light rain. It rained and blew during the night, and drizzled in the morning.
The dutch cyclists went to the post office and to make phone calls while we got a bite to eat in the local cafe. While we ate it started to rain again, so things got pulled out even longer. We stopped in to the bike shop (just a section of the hardware store, but they have some good stuff) where I found a new bottle of lube. The dutch cyclists repaired a flat tire at this time while we waited out the rain and talked a bunch.
Eventually we headed off down highway 191 out of town. Immediately we took a wrong turn which was entirely my fault. No one was following the narratives on the maps (too busy talking), but I saw the turn on my GPS, so we took it. The road was extremely washboarded and soon looked like it was to dead end or go to someones house. Checking the map we realized that our turn was about a half mile later. So, the first wrong turn as a result of the GPS. Not bad for 1500 miles of cycling on remote dirt roads. This was our first wrong turn to date, and it was only a minor one.
Back on track we pedaled a nice dirt road for a bit, then hit the pavemet towards Union Pass. The rain continued fairly unabated, but we had new friends to chat with so the time flew by. The man of the couple (I know their names, but do not know how to spell them) and I rode together, at times getting very far ahead of the girls. So occasionally we waited, once pulling out lunch to eat on the side of the road.
After lunch the clouds lightened and it stopped raining. As we crested a hill we were treated to a spectacular view of the Green River valley and surrounding peaks (even Gannet Peak, I believe). It turned into a nice relaxing ride.
Paula’s blown tire from yesterday was losing air about 30 miles into the ride. We pumped it up again and it held briefly, but I knew it was time to change the tube. I was so happy to be changing it in the shade of a cloud, today, during a rest day, instead of while roasting in the sun during the middle of a 87 mile day, anxious to tick off some miles.
They planned to stay at the Whiskey Grove campground, a USFS one that was only 37 miles from Pinedale. We certainly needed a rest, and 37 miles is not bad for resting, so we pulled in to stay with them as well. We have already had some interesting conversation and hope to have more. However it is likely that we will say goodbye at some point tomorrow. Paula and I are looking to put in some large days to get through the big parks (Teton and Yellowstone) without too much chaos and traffic. We will see how that plan works out.
The campsite is nice. The Green River is flowing right by our tent, hopefully providing a lulling sleep effect. The bugs of course are not nice. I’m afraid it is Mosquito Time from here on out. Yet another reason to keep riding through the evening, camping later at 8pm or so. I’m not much in the mood for too many more evenings of sitting around camp being eaten alive by bugs.
37 miles, 1600 feet of climbing
7/16
The lull of the Green River provided the expected good sleep. Our friends were up and at them before 6am, with us up a bit later. It was quite cold and wet, but we managed to pull things together for a 7:30am start. The dutch couple left a bit earlier, trying to get out on the climb to warm up.
It was gradual at first and very cold (my feet were numb for the first 10 miles or so), then the real fun began. It was a bit rough of a climb, but not too steep. A worthy climb, I’d say. At one of the crests (around 9000 feet) before the actual Union Pass we stopped to eat an early lunch. Oatmeal and hot chocolate make a nice breakfast, but it only endures about a half hour of packing up camp and an hour of riding before my gas tank is in the red.
PB&J hit the spot once again, with various treats exchanged between our two groups as well. That is always one of the fun things of camping and riding with new people is that you get to see how they operate and get to try some of the food they bring along.
Climbing continued, then we stopped at a outhouse along the side of the road to, well, use it. It was in the perfect place, for me anyway, but I’m still not sure what it is doing there. When we were about to leave a laden cyclist emerged from the trees beyond. He was a stout fellow, who’s name escapes me, who has been ‘on the bike’ for about 3 years, including a cruise around the continent. He was an interesting guy to chat with, and, surprise, he was GPS’ing the entire GDMBR just like me. Unfortunately he’s saving the data in Mapsend format, so its use will be a little limited. He didn’t seem to understand the point of using GPX–so that other programs and units can benefit from the data. Nor did he understand why collecting a more detailed tracklog could be useful, even on today’s technology. I have the exact unit he was using, and, well, the tracklogs it (Magellan Sportrak Map) collects are not that great. Nevertheless, the guy was a serious tourist whose full story we do not really know. He hung an “Abortion Kills” type flag made out of marker and a cardboard box from his Bob trailer. His website is “havebikewilltravel.com”, though I have not visited it yet.
We traveled on, now getting late into the day, climbing away toward Union Pass. As the road improved we came into Tire Tuffy (ATV/motorcycle) land. They seemed to be everywhere. At the top Renate (one of our dutch cycling friends) wanted to stop and eat. The sun was glaring and our food is not exactly overflowing Paula’s panniers, so we decided it was best to push on. We were sad to leave our new friend after such a short time, but we are sort of on different trips with different goals. I think they were the most interesting and most similar to us of all the people we have met thus far on the divide. It’s too bad they aren’t riding a bit more miles a day… of course if that were true we would have never caught them. The conversations we had while we cycled today and while we camped last night ranged through many topics, usually important ones, and we found them to be inquisitive, capable of critical thought and also very respectful of other people. We can’t say enough good about them, really.
Paula and I rounded out the last climb ABOVE union pass (the real climb comes after it) to 9600, then began the steep drop to the highway. 4 miles of lost elevation took us to the Line Shack ranch/dude/lodge/restaurant where we happily feasted on club sandwhiches, fries and ice cream. This trip is turning me into even more of a food addict. It was also good to be inside during the hottest part of the afternoon.
After a short climb we dropped once again to the pavement, with the descent framed by beautiful red colored hills. The high cliffs of the Tetons loomed off in the distance as well. It was quite nice, except that it was getting hot.
We stopped at the tiny store (where everyone, including the customers seemed to weigh over 200 lbs) and found some oatmeal and drinks. Then it was back into the sun to begin the today’s second climb: Togwatee Pass (9668 feet). We were at 7300. Not too bad, but the beginning miles were gradual and there was plenty of traffic. In spots they had spilled out slurry all over the road (a supposed improvement). In the hot sun it burned our nostrils as well as covering our bikes and bodies with tar covered rocks. You never can find anything disagreeable with road construction (progress), can you?
Most of the serious climbing was done on dirt by way of Brooks Lake. We enjoyed this road, especially near the top where it was very narrow and cutting across a steep side slope. The road traversed extremely green meadows and offered awesome views all around. Even though I was feeling like crap (Ice Cream, though tasty is not something I can eat in the middle of a day of riding), I loved the climb.
We crested the pass and began a fast dive on pavement. We were rolling towards our 80th mile for the day, the sun was setting and it was actually getting cold. The first place we found to stay at was the Togwatee Lodge. Expensive, but it would work. We probably should have continued further to get an early start on tomorrow’s John D. Rockafeller highway of death section, but, alas, we were done for the day. I’m not sure that an early start would have helped much anyway. We are planning on it being mostly to completely awful, except for the views.
79 miles, 7000 feet of climbing
Leave a Reply