What a long strange trip its been...
It's been 13 years since I last passed through (via I-80) these parts and I won't mind if it is another 13 or more years before I pass through again.
There is a lot of wide-open space between Lander and Rawlins. So much so that horses here are wild and run free. Yesterday, I noticed a horse running towards me. Fortunately, it was on the other side of the fence. I thought this was weird behavior. Most horses I had seen were grazing, not running around. This must have been the first wild horse I noticed. Later on today's ride, I passed by 6 more wild horses grazing in a field far away from any farm house or dwelling. In 2012, Tom Davis would disappear many of those horses (
ProPublica).
The ride today passed through an interesting area - a great basin. There is a point in the continental divide (I prefer the French phrase, which roughly translates as "the parting of the waters") where the divide actually splits and in the middle is formed a basin. From this basin, no water escapes. Rain that falls over this basin does not flow to the Atlantic Ocean or the Pacific Ocean (or from certain peaks in the Canadian Rockies, to Hudson Bay).
Three Experiences.
The first experience involved my back tire. Yesterday, I had struggled with my back tire. Today, as I finished the last climb, I noticed that riding my bike was more like riding a pogo stick. There is a mushy feeling in the back tire when it goes flat. And when I checked, it was becoming flat. So I had a choice - either change the tire with my last spare and potentially ruin that spare - the only tire I had left - or continue to re-inflate the tire for the rest of the trip. I chose the later.
This choice seemed to be working until I stopped at the point 1/3 of the way through the trip. I was hoping to stock up at a store at this point. Not finding a store, I was at least able to find water at a rest stop. But stopping at the rest stop, I noticed something important about my tire.
A week or so ago, when I was in Cody, someone pointed out that my back tire tread was gone. I just shrugged because, I knew I would change my tire soon in Boulder, Colorado. I didn't, however, bother to look at my tire. If I had, I might have noticed, like I noticed today at the rest stop, that some of the iron-reinforcement for my tire was showing through the tire. So I had a flat tube, a deteriorating tire, and 80 more miles of riding ahead of me! I spent the remainder of the day re-inflating my tire every hour or so. And in the last 16 miles coming in Rawlins, I re-inflated my tire at least 8 times.
The second experience was my lunch (if you could call it that) of a grilled cheese sandwich, chips, and a green apple in the little (!) town of Jeffrey City. The menu said that family, friends, or children may be my server, my waitperson, my cook, or take my check. The youngster who helped me must have been early teens or almost a pre-teen. She was very professional though, but without personality. At that age, it is hard for a youngster to show their personality to a stranger. The mother seated me, but the youngster served me and took my order. I saw her brother (?) in the kitchen. Did he make the grilled cheese sandwich? I think his father or mother was yelling at this kid.
I had a nice chat with the only other customer, an indian (native american) BLM agent who was responsible for mining activities. It seems that this area is rich in uranium. I had read somewhere (the
Utne Reader, perhaps) that uranium was becoming valuable once again. If true, this may improve Jeffrey City's fortunes, though not the World's. Apparently in the 70's,
Jeffery City had a population of 6,000. Now it is 100 or 200, if you count the surrounding area. From what I saw at the Cafe, apparently, it is not easy to make a living in Jeffrey City. I might have stayed in Jeffery City if
Monk King Bird Pottery were open at that time (it opened in 2009).
The third experience involved the ride from Lamont in the Continental Divide Basin to Rawlins. Most of the ride this day was on a wide road with 6-foot shoulders, but past Lamont, the shoulders shrunk to just the width of a cyclist and the far side of the shoulder slighly sloped into the dirt. Fortunately, there was a
rumble strip between me and the fast moving vehicles. Other than the width of the shoulder, there were two problems. First, the shoulder was rough and uneven. Second, the vehicles, including the trucks drove by at 90 mph. When a truck passes at this speed, even a fully loaded bicycle gets drawn towards the truck. This can be a problem if I get drawn to close or if I get drawn after a truck and there is a truck or other vehicle behind the first truck.
As I rode this section of highway, I noticed a thunder storm to the west. It was really dark and I could see rain streamers descending from the clouds. I could see lightening and hear thunder. While there was no rain over the road yet, I could see the storm passing over the road a few miles ahead of me.
What choices did I have? To ride in the rain (with a flat tire and a rough shoulder) or ? I realized that I shouldn't ride while the storm passed. The wind might blow me towards the trucks and cars. The rain would obscure the driver's vision. I might get struck my lightning. Shocking!
I wouldn't want to just stand on the side of the road and wait for the storm to pass. I would get too wet and I would feel silly just standing there in the rain. So, I decided that I would pitch my tent, but just not yet. Even though I had just passed a turnout on the road, the rain hadn't started yet even though I could see it approaching.
So I waited - until the rain started. Then there was no turnout. Finally, I saw one - on the other side of the road. I had no choice the rain was beginning and the wind had really begun to blow. I crossed the road, put down my bike, put on my rain slicker, and went to work.
Nice Spot in a Pitch
Pitching a tent in the rain and the wind is not easy. For one, how do you keep the inside of the tent dry? My tent has three parts: a ground cover, the tent, and a rainfly (why do they call it a "fly"?). There wasn't time to use the ground cover.
I began to set up the tent. But rain can just fall right through the tent. That is why there is the rainfly. Chicken or the Egg - which do I do first, place the tent to give structure or cover the tent with the rainfly to prevent the tent from getting wet? Well, I had to put up the tent. This was not easy. I got the two main support poles placed, but when a tent is pitched in the rain, it becomes a sail. So even though the poles were placed in a manner that would give the tent its normal shape, the wind caused the tent to smush (technical term: "smush", def. to push together) together.
After a few minutes of restling with the tent, I placed the third backside tent pole. However, the tent almost took off from me a few times because the wind caused it to sail. I decided that I would place my bike bags inside of the tent to weigh it down. Before I put the bags inside, I placed the rainfly over the tent. Considering the wind and the rain, it was suprising that the inside of the tent was mostly dry.
One more problem existed though. Because I was too close to the road and because of the speed of the trucks (I guess it is too much to ask drivers to slow down in the rain?), the rainfly still shimied when a truck passed. So I went out in the rain one more time and tide one side of the rain fly to my bike and the other side to one of my bike bags. After this, the tent was stable, the rain was falling, the storm was passing, and I was able to take a nap.
All together, this entire pitching-a-tent-at-the-side-of-the-road-while-waiting-for-a-storm-to-pass-ordeal took an hour. As I emerged from the tent, I noticed that to the east (the storm traveled west to east), the mountains had disappeared behind a dark blue wall of rain, but where I was the wind and the rain had stopped. I packed my bags and got on my way.
There should have been mountains visible at the horizon. Instead, only a wall of rain was visible.
