Day 21 was in every way easier than day 20 had been. I started with a stop at a little coffee hut across from the motel. In line, I started talking to a guy about the coffee in Italy and its superiority to most of the stuff you can get in the states. Then he asked about the clear 'i'm going for a bike ride' gear I had on. During this conversation, another woman, Hope, walked in and took over the not me part of the dialogue. At first she expressed concern over taking 85, there are parts without much shoulder and often heavy truck traffic. She offered an alternate route of going straight east to Custer then taking the Mickelson trail up to Deadwood, my aim for the night. She tried calling a friend of hers in Lead who owned a hostel, but apparently the owner was in a jazz concert that night then afterwards was flying to Long Island. Oh, JFK, how much easier it would be to get back home if I just flew to you. But where's the adventure in that?
After talking with Hope for some time, she acknowledged that at least there's not too much traffic on 85, so it might not kill me to take it. I finished my coffee and started out.
The road out of Newcastle begins in a climb. Within a couple miles, I was up on the hills overlooking town, going through high pasture land. Slowly, the pine trees started getting thicker until suddenly, for the first time since California two weeks and three whole states ago, I was entering a real forest. The places I grew up may not have mountains, but they do have forests, and going from the wide open expanse of most of Wyoming, I found some comfort in the closer horizons of trees and hills.
Within a few miles, I hit construction and was queued up in the line of cars waiting for the flagger to let us through. The flagger waved me over to a construction truck and was told to ride behind this truck. When we finally were allowed to start, I followed the truck and, given the decline of most of that part of the road, was pretty easily able to keep up with the 35mph pace the driver had set.
Several miles later, once I was clear of a lot of the traffic, I came to a part where the shoulder had been freshly resurfaced and was, in fact, a better riding surface than the traffic lanes. Flat, smooth, and almost four feet wide from the white line, I was able to keep up a steady pace as I followed up and down the hills. I wondered what Hope had meant by having no shoulders. I passed Red Butte, a brilliant red against the dark green foliage surrounding it. As I was getting closer to leaving Wyoming, a red tailed hawk flew a few effortless circles around me, the spirit of the state wishing me farewell and thanking me for visiting.
At mile 1582.76, I stopped to take a short break right on the Wyoming/South Dakota state line. It had taken me less than an hour to get there from Newcastle. South Dakota is the first and only state on this tour that I had not already been to or through at some point in the past. Horray for new states. Not far into the state, I was greeted by an American Bald Eagle, who instead of circles above me, was dashing back and forth across the road. Welcome to the Black Hills.
I climbed up to O'Neill Pass at 6785' and then, for the next twelve miles, hit a steady downslope to Cheyenne Crossing. I covered that ground quickly, getting over 43 miles per hour for some of it. Unfortunately, my camera battery had died, so I was only able to take a couple pictures on my phone. The landscape was rugged and beautiful. At one point, I heard a snapping sound from behind me, but, assuming it came from one of the lumber trucks that soon passed me, I didn't think much of it.
I climbed back up to Lead and then around to Deadwood. I found I room very close to the trailhead for the Mickelson Trail, dumped off the bike and gear and set out to explore the town a bit before sunset. I first went up to Mt. Moriah, the cemetery where Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane are buried. I climbed all the way to the top of the hill where the town's first sheriff, Timothy Oylaphant, I mean Seth Bullock is interred. Of course he had to be laid to rest up at the top of the hill apart from the rest of the town.
Passing up the Bill and Jane salt and pepper shakers in the cemetery gift shop, I went back down into town. I passed the spot where Wild Bill was shot by the coward Jack McCall, and the spot three blocks later where McCall was captured by a crowd. I couldn't get my intended shot of whiskey at the saloon Bill was killed in, as it was closed for renovations. One odd thing about this town, there are no restaurants that are not part of a hotel or casino. Ok, other than the Taco John.
I went into the Gem Saloon and had a whiskey and a beer. I imagine the place was a little rougher 130 years ago, today, it was filled mostly with grey and white haired folk sitting in front of slot machines pressing buttons. The sounds of the incessant button pressing and their counterpart beeps from the machines quickly started to grate on me, so I moved on to the next bar. I don't like to gamble, I prefer to spend my money on more certain outcomes, like booze. I had a shot and a beer there too, then found a place for dinner.
I ended up back at the Hickok House, feeling that I had had a successful day.
Day 21, Newcastle, WY - Deadwood SD
43.5 miles in 2:59:12. 1611.1 for the trip in 135:38:06 and a high speed of 43.5 mph.
Showing posts with label week 3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label week 3. Show all posts
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Mile 1545.42 - In which he angers the East Wind
Most of Day 20 I was reminded of Menelaos, who after victory failed to sacrifice the proper hecatombs and was thus thwarted from making his homecoming until he retraced his steps and offered the gods the proper sacrifice. Unlike Menelaos, I have no pure young calf, nor gold to gild its horns, nor am I sure which god I angered. Until I hear better, I still think Hermes is the most relevant god for bicycle tourists. Whoever you are, if you simply identify yourself and what you want from me, I'll make arrangements to appease you in exchange for clear passage.
Regardless, I was fighting the east wind for nearly every inch I advanced today.
On 450 just out of Wright, I found a young male antelope at the side of the road. We locked eyes a moment, then the race was on. Unfortunately, uphill and against a steady 15-20 mile an hour wind, he had every advantage. He quickly outpaced me and ran to the top of the hill. There he stopped and turned around to wait for me to catch up. When I got up to him, he took off again, staying in the 20' margin between the road and the barbed cattle fence. Again he quickly got ahead of me. So, a couple hundred yards ahead of me, he stopped a second time. This time when I caught up, I had a better downhill so was able to keep up with him for maybe a full minute. But his natural speed and far greater aerodynamicity won out again. This time, about 1/8th of a mile ahead of me, he suddenly veered across the road and into an open pasture to my right. By the time I made it to the gate, he was nearly over a hill and out of sight. So far in the races, that's Antelope 2, Josh and Penny 1.
I crossed the grassy hills of Thunder Basin and came to Black Thunder, North America's largest surface coal mine. I got to the train cars both loaded and waiting to be, lined up by a giant coal hopper dumping the black rock into each car in turn. The conveyor leading to the hopper was around a mile long. There were signs warning of blasting and to avoid the orange smoke. Duly noted. And all that was before I got to the mine proper, or rather the huge piles of inert rock left over after sifting through it all.
I came to a parked car and saw a small boy whose attention was torn between me and the mine as I approached. When I got to him, he told me that if I waited, big trucks of coal drove along the road beneath us. I didn't quite hear him the first time and stopped to ask him to repeat himself. I was soon talking to his grandmother and, I assume, mother, who told me he likes to stop to watch the big trucks. Naturally, we were soon talking about my ride and I gave out another card. I hope half of the cards I've given out turn into readers. Hello you all! Thanks for being a positive enough part of this adventure that I'd want to share more of it with you.
Anyway, I started on and within a couple hundred feet was on the bridge under which the coal trucks traveled. Ok, I've seen double long semis and tanker trucks, there aren't a lot of big trucks that would impress me. Then I heard a rumble and watched as, at about 8mph, this enormous dump truck loaded with coal went under the bridge. The truck was the size of a split-level suburban house. In fact, I would not have been shocked if my parents' house would fit comfortably on the back, and that's not a small house.
There's not a whole lot else to say about this day. It seemed every time I fought my way to the top of a hill, I'd see the next two hills, the second, of course being the tallest. When I got to the top of it, I'd see the next two, and the pattern would be the same. As I was going almost due east, the wind was blowing straight at me almost the whole time. Also, because I had pushed my legs as hard as I could to get up the hill, there was nothing left to push going down. Even downhill, I had to work to get to 13-15mph. There was a hill that I know I would have gone down around 28-30 without wind and in the 45 range if the same wind was behind me, but I was just barely pushing 17. I have to say, there were a couple times in this process where I said aloud 'Oh, screw this!' I was not having fun.
I got to a point where I had only 8 miles left to go until I hit 16 just outside if Newcastle. I thought 'how many hills could they pack in 8 miles?'. Six, not including the climb into town on 16. There was one part approaching town that the wind slacked a bit and moved around to the southeast, but that only helped slightly as once I got to 16, I was pointed right back into it.
I had planed to try to make it the next 27 miles to the South Dakota border, but my legs were done. I went through the whole town of Newcastle trying to find a room, but nowhere had vacancy. Finally I secured a room pretty close to the far edge of town. I had passed by all sorts of good looking taverns and restaurants through town, but now past it, and having no desire to walk the mile and a half back up hill to downtown, my dinner options were slim: Pizza Hut, Subway, or the gas station. I walked into the Pizza Hut where I was promptly ignored by the waitress who was talking with some friends at a table. I grabbed a menu. I stood there. I started to walk to a table, though none of them were set as they were closing in an hour and a half. She made eye contact with me a second time, then went back to her conversation. I slapped the menu on the table, said 'screw this' and stormed out, not even looked at the waitress as she gawked at me. I'm sorry, you just lost business. You can't give me a 'Hi' or 'I'll be right with you' or even an 'I acknowledge your existence, but you are a low priority and I'll get to you eventually'? Well, ask anyone who's served me so far on my trip, I'm a standard 20% tipper. Your loss.
Yeah. Today ranks right up there with the climb to Carson Pass and the climb to Park City in the hardest days of cycling so far. This is exemplified by being the first day that, for the entire day, I averaged under 10 miles per hour. Come on, Wyoming, I thought we were friends.
Day 20, Wright, WY - Newcastle, WY
71.4 miles in 8:00:52 today. Boo. That brings me to 1545.42 in 132:38:02 for the trip. Top speed was a hard earned 25.1mph
Regardless, I was fighting the east wind for nearly every inch I advanced today.
On 450 just out of Wright, I found a young male antelope at the side of the road. We locked eyes a moment, then the race was on. Unfortunately, uphill and against a steady 15-20 mile an hour wind, he had every advantage. He quickly outpaced me and ran to the top of the hill. There he stopped and turned around to wait for me to catch up. When I got up to him, he took off again, staying in the 20' margin between the road and the barbed cattle fence. Again he quickly got ahead of me. So, a couple hundred yards ahead of me, he stopped a second time. This time when I caught up, I had a better downhill so was able to keep up with him for maybe a full minute. But his natural speed and far greater aerodynamicity won out again. This time, about 1/8th of a mile ahead of me, he suddenly veered across the road and into an open pasture to my right. By the time I made it to the gate, he was nearly over a hill and out of sight. So far in the races, that's Antelope 2, Josh and Penny 1.
I crossed the grassy hills of Thunder Basin and came to Black Thunder, North America's largest surface coal mine. I got to the train cars both loaded and waiting to be, lined up by a giant coal hopper dumping the black rock into each car in turn. The conveyor leading to the hopper was around a mile long. There were signs warning of blasting and to avoid the orange smoke. Duly noted. And all that was before I got to the mine proper, or rather the huge piles of inert rock left over after sifting through it all.
I came to a parked car and saw a small boy whose attention was torn between me and the mine as I approached. When I got to him, he told me that if I waited, big trucks of coal drove along the road beneath us. I didn't quite hear him the first time and stopped to ask him to repeat himself. I was soon talking to his grandmother and, I assume, mother, who told me he likes to stop to watch the big trucks. Naturally, we were soon talking about my ride and I gave out another card. I hope half of the cards I've given out turn into readers. Hello you all! Thanks for being a positive enough part of this adventure that I'd want to share more of it with you.
Anyway, I started on and within a couple hundred feet was on the bridge under which the coal trucks traveled. Ok, I've seen double long semis and tanker trucks, there aren't a lot of big trucks that would impress me. Then I heard a rumble and watched as, at about 8mph, this enormous dump truck loaded with coal went under the bridge. The truck was the size of a split-level suburban house. In fact, I would not have been shocked if my parents' house would fit comfortably on the back, and that's not a small house.
There's not a whole lot else to say about this day. It seemed every time I fought my way to the top of a hill, I'd see the next two hills, the second, of course being the tallest. When I got to the top of it, I'd see the next two, and the pattern would be the same. As I was going almost due east, the wind was blowing straight at me almost the whole time. Also, because I had pushed my legs as hard as I could to get up the hill, there was nothing left to push going down. Even downhill, I had to work to get to 13-15mph. There was a hill that I know I would have gone down around 28-30 without wind and in the 45 range if the same wind was behind me, but I was just barely pushing 17. I have to say, there were a couple times in this process where I said aloud 'Oh, screw this!' I was not having fun.
I got to a point where I had only 8 miles left to go until I hit 16 just outside if Newcastle. I thought 'how many hills could they pack in 8 miles?'. Six, not including the climb into town on 16. There was one part approaching town that the wind slacked a bit and moved around to the southeast, but that only helped slightly as once I got to 16, I was pointed right back into it.
I had planed to try to make it the next 27 miles to the South Dakota border, but my legs were done. I went through the whole town of Newcastle trying to find a room, but nowhere had vacancy. Finally I secured a room pretty close to the far edge of town. I had passed by all sorts of good looking taverns and restaurants through town, but now past it, and having no desire to walk the mile and a half back up hill to downtown, my dinner options were slim: Pizza Hut, Subway, or the gas station. I walked into the Pizza Hut where I was promptly ignored by the waitress who was talking with some friends at a table. I grabbed a menu. I stood there. I started to walk to a table, though none of them were set as they were closing in an hour and a half. She made eye contact with me a second time, then went back to her conversation. I slapped the menu on the table, said 'screw this' and stormed out, not even looked at the waitress as she gawked at me. I'm sorry, you just lost business. You can't give me a 'Hi' or 'I'll be right with you' or even an 'I acknowledge your existence, but you are a low priority and I'll get to you eventually'? Well, ask anyone who's served me so far on my trip, I'm a standard 20% tipper. Your loss.
Yeah. Today ranks right up there with the climb to Carson Pass and the climb to Park City in the hardest days of cycling so far. This is exemplified by being the first day that, for the entire day, I averaged under 10 miles per hour. Come on, Wyoming, I thought we were friends.
Day 20, Wright, WY - Newcastle, WY
71.4 miles in 8:00:52 today. Boo. That brings me to 1545.42 in 132:38:02 for the trip. Top speed was a hard earned 25.1mph
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Mile 1474.02 - A Tale of Two Rides
Day 19 and my goal was to get from my camp about 16 miles northwest of Casper to Wright, closing in on the South Dakota Border.
There was one more hill the size of those I climbed to end day 18, but without 90+ miles on my legs for the day, it was much easier to climb. As I got to the top of the hill, I found some companions in 6 antelope running along with me. They seem to like to do that and as long as it doesn't turn aggressive, I'm totally cool with it. As I was climbing, they were faster than me, but as I crested the hill and started to pick up speed on the way down, I passed them. Then, suddenly, they all stopped and just stood there to watch me go off into the distance.
I got into Mills, a mile across the river from Casper and took a morning break. US 20/26 had nice wide shoulders, but as I turned onto Old Salt Creek Road to head north, the shoulder disappeared and I was cast into heavy truck traffic from the industries that lines the road. A few miles later though, and I passed Bar Nunn, after which there wasn't much traffic at all. The road passed to the other side of interstate 87 and that's when it got really fun. I climbed a small hill and could see three hills ahead of me, including 20 Mile Hill which was 14 miles away from that point. Each hill had a deeper decline than incline and I was flying. I was almost always over 30 on the downslopes, hit 38.2 on one and my momentum carried me halfway up 20 Mile Hill. I got to the top and was greeted with a nice long slope down and I was able to peak out at 42.8mph.
I rode past Teapot Dome, made famous for the unabashed bribery it's natural resources caused. This was one end of a vast oil and natural gas reserve in this part of the state, as was evidenced by the forest of oil rigs set up across the landscape. After 60.55 miles for the day, I hit my second bike path in Wyoming, a small trail that extends between the neighboring mining towns of Midwest and Edgerton.
In Edgerton, I made a stop at the post office to send home my map of Utah which was no longer needed, and a highway map of Wyoming. I also sent Dan the Wyoming map, because it is a good one, and sent in my registration for my college reunion in June. I'm going to really have to slow myself down to make it in time, but more on that later. As I was at the post office I was talking to the postal lady and a UPS guy about the terrain and weather ahead, and both seemed rather grim. 'It gets hilly up that way' he offered. She hoped that the hail she had heard forecasted didn't effect me. This really marked the changing point in the day.
Yes, from Edgerton into the Thunder Basin National Grassland it is hilly. As I climbed yet more hills, I watched the black clouds march in on the wind from the southwest. First the rain was just light enough to coat Penny and myself is a layer of dust and grit from the road. Then, as I crossed into Campbell County, it really started raining. As I had predicted to the Postal lady, if the weather got too bad, I'd put up my tent and wait it out. The tent was up in under 5 minutes and soon everything except the bike was dry inside the tent. I had some lunch and read a little more Homer.
The rain passed, I packed up and moved on. There were plenty of cows and antelope to look at, the occasional sheep or goat ranch thrown in for diversity. Then, one of my hopes for the trip came to pass. Well, kinda. There, on the left side of the road, covering the top and side of a hill, was a herd of buffalo. I wanted to see a great flock of buffalo roaming across the trackless grasslands of the great planes. What I saw was a herd grazing on what was obviously ranch land. But, even from a distance I could tell they were not cows, but their larger native cousins.
I made it to Wright. I had wanted to press on a little further, but the sun was sinking and the rain clouds started rolling in again. I went around to all three hotels in town to find the best rate. It was the last place. I walked a block down and across the highway to get dinner, a distance I'm sure most locals would drive. I got back to the room, did some laundry for the first time since Provo, and tried to catch up on the journal. I ended up passing out after a day's worth, but at least I got that in. The rain poured for at least an hour, and I was glad that I chose to find a room instead of camp.
Day 19, Camp East of Natrona, WY - Wright, WY
112.82 miles, 1474.02 total. 7:52:44 for the day, 124:27:10 for the trip and a top speed of 42.8
There was one more hill the size of those I climbed to end day 18, but without 90+ miles on my legs for the day, it was much easier to climb. As I got to the top of the hill, I found some companions in 6 antelope running along with me. They seem to like to do that and as long as it doesn't turn aggressive, I'm totally cool with it. As I was climbing, they were faster than me, but as I crested the hill and started to pick up speed on the way down, I passed them. Then, suddenly, they all stopped and just stood there to watch me go off into the distance.
I got into Mills, a mile across the river from Casper and took a morning break. US 20/26 had nice wide shoulders, but as I turned onto Old Salt Creek Road to head north, the shoulder disappeared and I was cast into heavy truck traffic from the industries that lines the road. A few miles later though, and I passed Bar Nunn, after which there wasn't much traffic at all. The road passed to the other side of interstate 87 and that's when it got really fun. I climbed a small hill and could see three hills ahead of me, including 20 Mile Hill which was 14 miles away from that point. Each hill had a deeper decline than incline and I was flying. I was almost always over 30 on the downslopes, hit 38.2 on one and my momentum carried me halfway up 20 Mile Hill. I got to the top and was greeted with a nice long slope down and I was able to peak out at 42.8mph.
I rode past Teapot Dome, made famous for the unabashed bribery it's natural resources caused. This was one end of a vast oil and natural gas reserve in this part of the state, as was evidenced by the forest of oil rigs set up across the landscape. After 60.55 miles for the day, I hit my second bike path in Wyoming, a small trail that extends between the neighboring mining towns of Midwest and Edgerton.
In Edgerton, I made a stop at the post office to send home my map of Utah which was no longer needed, and a highway map of Wyoming. I also sent Dan the Wyoming map, because it is a good one, and sent in my registration for my college reunion in June. I'm going to really have to slow myself down to make it in time, but more on that later. As I was at the post office I was talking to the postal lady and a UPS guy about the terrain and weather ahead, and both seemed rather grim. 'It gets hilly up that way' he offered. She hoped that the hail she had heard forecasted didn't effect me. This really marked the changing point in the day.
Yes, from Edgerton into the Thunder Basin National Grassland it is hilly. As I climbed yet more hills, I watched the black clouds march in on the wind from the southwest. First the rain was just light enough to coat Penny and myself is a layer of dust and grit from the road. Then, as I crossed into Campbell County, it really started raining. As I had predicted to the Postal lady, if the weather got too bad, I'd put up my tent and wait it out. The tent was up in under 5 minutes and soon everything except the bike was dry inside the tent. I had some lunch and read a little more Homer.
The rain passed, I packed up and moved on. There were plenty of cows and antelope to look at, the occasional sheep or goat ranch thrown in for diversity. Then, one of my hopes for the trip came to pass. Well, kinda. There, on the left side of the road, covering the top and side of a hill, was a herd of buffalo. I wanted to see a great flock of buffalo roaming across the trackless grasslands of the great planes. What I saw was a herd grazing on what was obviously ranch land. But, even from a distance I could tell they were not cows, but their larger native cousins.
I made it to Wright. I had wanted to press on a little further, but the sun was sinking and the rain clouds started rolling in again. I went around to all three hotels in town to find the best rate. It was the last place. I walked a block down and across the highway to get dinner, a distance I'm sure most locals would drive. I got back to the room, did some laundry for the first time since Provo, and tried to catch up on the journal. I ended up passing out after a day's worth, but at least I got that in. The rain poured for at least an hour, and I was glad that I chose to find a room instead of camp.
Day 19, Camp East of Natrona, WY - Wright, WY
112.82 miles, 1474.02 total. 7:52:44 for the day, 124:27:10 for the trip and a top speed of 42.8
Monday, May 17, 2010
Mile 1361.2 - Antelope Day
I started day 18 with a 10 minute walk to get water and gatorade. As I was walking back into the courtyard of the motel, Phil, the guy at the desk the night before, told the three ladies of the housekeeping crew about my trip. I talked to them for a few minutes and as I pulled out of the parking lot, one waved out a window at me wishing me safety and good riding. I can feel the protective bubble of all the good wishes sent my way by the people I've met so far.
I started on the 22 miles to Shoshoni with the hope of making the 120 to Casper. Just before Shoshoni, I saw the spot that I really should have camped at the night before, at the Boyson State Park. The Wind River is gathered in the Boyson Reservoir and the pictures I took of the mountains reflecting off the surface of the water do not capture the awe of the location. As I climbed a little way up from the river, I could see mountains on the horizon in every direction except the one I was headed. Here again, my camera is too feeble an instrument to properly convey the character of the land.
As I continued east, I saw my first Wall Drug sign. I know that Wall, SD by the most direct route is still over 300 miles away. I saw another one the next day too.
46 miles into day, I came to Hiland, WY, population 10, and saw 20% of the town population. I don't think you can see 20% of New York City at once. A few miles past that is the Waltman Rest Stop, where a extensive gopher village had been established in the scraggly grass. After a brief rest, I continued east to Hell's Half Acre.
Hell's Half Acre is as rugged and unforgiving a landscape as any I can imagine. Buffalo used to be herded to their slaughter into the ravine, then carefully carried out. Definitely worth the stop if you're on your way to Yellowstone from Casper.
East of there, the hills started to get steeper and less forgiving. I passed Natrona. I had expected Natrona to be something, seeing that Casper is in Natrona County. As far as I can tell, Natrona is a ranch with a woman playing with a couple very waggy dogs. After Natrona came three hills. The second one was a long slow curve up, and by the top of the third, I knew I didn't have the 20 miles left to Casper in my legs. I found a grassy spot where the fence was a little further back from the road and partially blocked by the top of the hill. It was a great spot.
The title today is Antelope Day, and I have yet to mention an antelope. Throughout the day, I saw probably around 200, though I'm sure that more saw me. There were a few singles or couples, including one that was certainly the alpha male of any pack he ran in. He was a good six inches taller than the average antelope and bulkier. He watched me rolling up the hill toward him and snorted at me as I passed. Most of the antelope were in groups of 6-15, though I did see two packs that were over 25. I saw one of the larger groups grazing on the hill just beyond the fence where I had pitched my tent. Apparently I had been quiet enough and the wind blowing the other way, so they didn't sense me until I unzipped the tent door to get a clear picture of them. They allowed me a couple, then passed over the top of the hill into the sunset and out of sight.
Day 18, Riverton, WY - Camp east of Natrona, WY
96.7 miles for 1361.2 total, 7:32:15 today, 116:40:26 altogether and a high speed of 27.0 mph
I started on the 22 miles to Shoshoni with the hope of making the 120 to Casper. Just before Shoshoni, I saw the spot that I really should have camped at the night before, at the Boyson State Park. The Wind River is gathered in the Boyson Reservoir and the pictures I took of the mountains reflecting off the surface of the water do not capture the awe of the location. As I climbed a little way up from the river, I could see mountains on the horizon in every direction except the one I was headed. Here again, my camera is too feeble an instrument to properly convey the character of the land.
As I continued east, I saw my first Wall Drug sign. I know that Wall, SD by the most direct route is still over 300 miles away. I saw another one the next day too.
46 miles into day, I came to Hiland, WY, population 10, and saw 20% of the town population. I don't think you can see 20% of New York City at once. A few miles past that is the Waltman Rest Stop, where a extensive gopher village had been established in the scraggly grass. After a brief rest, I continued east to Hell's Half Acre.
Hell's Half Acre is as rugged and unforgiving a landscape as any I can imagine. Buffalo used to be herded to their slaughter into the ravine, then carefully carried out. Definitely worth the stop if you're on your way to Yellowstone from Casper.
East of there, the hills started to get steeper and less forgiving. I passed Natrona. I had expected Natrona to be something, seeing that Casper is in Natrona County. As far as I can tell, Natrona is a ranch with a woman playing with a couple very waggy dogs. After Natrona came three hills. The second one was a long slow curve up, and by the top of the third, I knew I didn't have the 20 miles left to Casper in my legs. I found a grassy spot where the fence was a little further back from the road and partially blocked by the top of the hill. It was a great spot.
The title today is Antelope Day, and I have yet to mention an antelope. Throughout the day, I saw probably around 200, though I'm sure that more saw me. There were a few singles or couples, including one that was certainly the alpha male of any pack he ran in. He was a good six inches taller than the average antelope and bulkier. He watched me rolling up the hill toward him and snorted at me as I passed. Most of the antelope were in groups of 6-15, though I did see two packs that were over 25. I saw one of the larger groups grazing on the hill just beyond the fence where I had pitched my tent. Apparently I had been quiet enough and the wind blowing the other way, so they didn't sense me until I unzipped the tent door to get a clear picture of them. They allowed me a couple, then passed over the top of the hill into the sunset and out of sight.
Day 18, Riverton, WY - Camp east of Natrona, WY
96.7 miles for 1361.2 total, 7:32:15 today, 116:40:26 altogether and a high speed of 27.0 mph
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Mile 1264.5 - Natural Beauty
Day 17, overall, was one of my favorite days so far on the trip. It started with a camp breakfast of scrambled eggs and cheese with tortillas. As I ate my breakfast I watched a small pack of antelope and a few random cows eating theirs. As the desert hills passed under my wheels, I was again riding the opposite way along parts of the Oregon, California and Mormon Trails. I came to the spot known as The Parting Of Ways, where the three trails split from each other. A little further east and I came South Pass, which at a mere 7550’ was famed for being the pass ‘without an exhaustive climb’. Tens of thousands of emigrants passed that way, for those going to California and Oregon, it marked the halfway point, but the half that lay ahead was going to be harder than what they had already traveled. I suppose if I were going to St. Louis the opposite would be true for me.
A few miles after the historical marker for the pass was the Continental Divide. That meant I was roughly 1/3rd of the way done, at least by distance. There was a rest stop a little bit after, and Penny drew a small crowd. I talked to them for a while and one of them suggested a 30 mile diversion up to Thermopolis to visit the mineral hot springs. I considered it for a while, looking at the map. The only ways to continue from Thermopolis would involve either doubling back to Shoshoni and the route I had already set, effectively giving me a day of riding without any advancement, or going north and then cutting east, crossing the Big Horn Mountains at Powder River Pass, 9666’. I think I want Carson Pass at 8574’ to remain my highest climb, thank you very much. So, maybe next time. I have a feeling I’ll be back in Wyoming again, possibly with a car.
2.1 miles later and Penny and I reached mile 1200. Again, following the projected route that’s roughly 1/3rd of the way through. The celebration was a little short lived, as I found myself climbing more and suddenly, I was above the snow line and entering the Shoshone National Forest. I climbed to 8323’, dropped back down a couple hundred feet then climbed back up 8405’, dropped again and came back up to 8460’ all within about 10 miles. As I was coming down the backside of that last slope, I exchanged a fast greeting with another cyclist climbing up the other direction. I started back upwards and hit the last big climb of the range up to 8250’. With all this altitude, I’ll consider the Wind River Range to be one of the major ones I’ve crossed, along with the Sierras and the Wasatch.
Then came my most favorite sign, a yellow diamond with a picture of a truck going downhill and the caption ‘next 4 miles’. What followed was one of the most exhilarating experiences I ever had on a bicycle. In the trailer of the movie that will be made out of the book of this experience, there will be several long shots of me zooming down this mountain. After the four miles were up it leveled out as it crossed the end of the long bright gash of the Red Canyon. The stark red of the canyon wall and green below it was a mesmerizing contrast to the white and grey of the snow and rock I’d just come through. Then, there was that wonderful sign again, forecasting another 4 mile downslope. I had a nice wide shoulder all to myself, cruising downward at an even 44 miles an hour. At one slight flat between slopes, I pushed it up to 46.7. In seven minutes, I had covered three miles. I shot down past the snowline, and everything was green again. Near the bottom of the slope, there was a long curve alongside a bright green hill covered in antelope. They clearly are used to auto traffic, but a cyclist speeding by startled them. I was soon coming going through the horse and cattle ranches to Lander.
Lander was the first town of over 500 people I’d been through since Kemmerer, two mornings previously. The town boasted of both a Pizza Hut and a McDonalds. Penny had some more young admirers going through town. On the climb out of town, I was passed by an older cyclist who was riding back to Riverton. We spoke a moment about the terrain in front of us then he wished my luck and continued on at his pace. By the time I reached the top of the hill, he was long out of sight. A couple hills and run down ranch towns later and I was greeted by the casino on the outskirts of Riverton.
Riverton has a bike path that goes almost all the way along the highway from east to west. Yay bike path. In fact, in the time I was in Riverton, I saw more cyclists than I did across all of Utah. I found a room, had a very inexpensive dinner (at a restaurant a full 3/4s of a mile away, to which the hotel owner would have driven), and hunkered down for the night.
Day 17, Camp east of Farson, WY – Riverton, WY
100.3 miles, 1264.5 total. 5:58:03 today, 109:08:09 total, top speed 46.7
A few miles after the historical marker for the pass was the Continental Divide. That meant I was roughly 1/3rd of the way done, at least by distance. There was a rest stop a little bit after, and Penny drew a small crowd. I talked to them for a while and one of them suggested a 30 mile diversion up to Thermopolis to visit the mineral hot springs. I considered it for a while, looking at the map. The only ways to continue from Thermopolis would involve either doubling back to Shoshoni and the route I had already set, effectively giving me a day of riding without any advancement, or going north and then cutting east, crossing the Big Horn Mountains at Powder River Pass, 9666’. I think I want Carson Pass at 8574’ to remain my highest climb, thank you very much. So, maybe next time. I have a feeling I’ll be back in Wyoming again, possibly with a car.
2.1 miles later and Penny and I reached mile 1200. Again, following the projected route that’s roughly 1/3rd of the way through. The celebration was a little short lived, as I found myself climbing more and suddenly, I was above the snow line and entering the Shoshone National Forest. I climbed to 8323’, dropped back down a couple hundred feet then climbed back up 8405’, dropped again and came back up to 8460’ all within about 10 miles. As I was coming down the backside of that last slope, I exchanged a fast greeting with another cyclist climbing up the other direction. I started back upwards and hit the last big climb of the range up to 8250’. With all this altitude, I’ll consider the Wind River Range to be one of the major ones I’ve crossed, along with the Sierras and the Wasatch.
Then came my most favorite sign, a yellow diamond with a picture of a truck going downhill and the caption ‘next 4 miles’. What followed was one of the most exhilarating experiences I ever had on a bicycle. In the trailer of the movie that will be made out of the book of this experience, there will be several long shots of me zooming down this mountain. After the four miles were up it leveled out as it crossed the end of the long bright gash of the Red Canyon. The stark red of the canyon wall and green below it was a mesmerizing contrast to the white and grey of the snow and rock I’d just come through. Then, there was that wonderful sign again, forecasting another 4 mile downslope. I had a nice wide shoulder all to myself, cruising downward at an even 44 miles an hour. At one slight flat between slopes, I pushed it up to 46.7. In seven minutes, I had covered three miles. I shot down past the snowline, and everything was green again. Near the bottom of the slope, there was a long curve alongside a bright green hill covered in antelope. They clearly are used to auto traffic, but a cyclist speeding by startled them. I was soon coming going through the horse and cattle ranches to Lander.
Lander was the first town of over 500 people I’d been through since Kemmerer, two mornings previously. The town boasted of both a Pizza Hut and a McDonalds. Penny had some more young admirers going through town. On the climb out of town, I was passed by an older cyclist who was riding back to Riverton. We spoke a moment about the terrain in front of us then he wished my luck and continued on at his pace. By the time I reached the top of the hill, he was long out of sight. A couple hills and run down ranch towns later and I was greeted by the casino on the outskirts of Riverton.
Riverton has a bike path that goes almost all the way along the highway from east to west. Yay bike path. In fact, in the time I was in Riverton, I saw more cyclists than I did across all of Utah. I found a room, had a very inexpensive dinner (at a restaurant a full 3/4s of a mile away, to which the hotel owner would have driven), and hunkered down for the night.
Day 17, Camp east of Farson, WY – Riverton, WY
100.3 miles, 1264.5 total. 5:58:03 today, 109:08:09 total, top speed 46.7
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Mile 1175.95 - I continue to fall in love with Wyoming
Day 16 started, as usual with me scrambling to get everything together for a 9am start. Around 8:45 the phone in the room rang, it was VJ who had just made a fresh pot of coffee and invited me to the office for a cup. A few minutes later and Penny was packed, we walked across the parking lot to the office.
Well, so much for a 9:00 start. It ended up being closer to 10. We had another good talk about a wide range of topics and, as I was talking to him, one of the housekeepers ran into the office with my phone charger in her hand. Oh thank you thank you thank you. I probably would be in Casper before I realized I didn't have it. Eventually I left VJ and started riding. I passed again the original JC Penney store from 1902 right on the main triangle in town. It's probably about a quarter of the size of one of the mall department store versions.
I knew there was some more climbing in store for me, and sure enough 8 miles out of town, I found myself at the 7410' pass of Round Mountain. Then, as I the road turned north around the top of the hill, a wide vista of semi-arid desert and mountains opened before me. I could see from the Tetons to my northwest to the Wind River Range that lay across my path. I took WY 372 to Fontanelle, a hamlet that does not even appear on the official state highway map. The route I had scored before the trip had me take one county road to another in order to hit highway 28. It would save me about 3.5 miles from going directly down to 28. Weighing the unpaved county road before me with the extra mileage on an evenly paved state highway, I decided to just take the paved road. Even though it was further, I'm certain that it was still faster to take the highway.
Highway 28 marks an entrance to the Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge. It is a vast hilly desert, covered with scrub brush and grasses. It is home to every species of bird native to Wyoming, as well as elk, bull moose, antelope, a wide variety of rodents and other small mammals, and innumerable insects. Someone needs to be at the bottom of the food chain. There are also several herds of open range cattle and from about a mile away I saw a man on horseback who with three dogs was herding a large flock of sheep west. Throughout the day, but particularly in the wildlife refuge, I saw at least 60 antelope (usually in groups of 5-12) one fat, angry badger, a whole gopher village, several deermice, three peregrine falcons and several other large birds of prey too far off to clearly identify. It was fantastic. There was one solo male antelope who wanted to show how easily he could keep up with me. About 100' off my left, he ran with me for nearly half a mile without any real exertion. I was puffing along at 18mph, not quite going at 100%, but definitely putting forth an extra effort. Then he put on a burst of speed and slanted away from the road over a hill. So I can't outrun an antelope. I'm ok with that. I also reflected upon the fact that I'm glad it wasn't a male bullmoose trying to outrun me because that easily could have turned not pretty.
Also along the road through the wilderness are several historical markers. For much of that stretch, the Oregon, California and Utah trails, as well as the overland stagecoach line and the pony express line all ran along the same path. There are points where you can still clearly see the rut marks from the heavy covered wagons. I passed markers for the Mormon Emigrant Trail, parts of which I also rode on in Nevada and Utah, and for Simpson's Hollow, the location of one of the three engagements in the brief Utah War between US President James Buchanan and Utah Territorial Governor Brigham Young. It was a war fought over a lack of communication between the federal government and the young territory.
72 miles after I started my morning, I had gotten to Farson. There was a cafe on the town's corner, so I stopped in for a sandwich. They had a large ice cream selection, and in the time I was eating, plenty of people came in for ice cream. Watching them, I suddenly was craving orange sherbet, so I ordered a single scoop. It was more than half a pint of ice cream balanced precariously atop a cone. And most of the people had been ordering doubles. I'm burning at least 5000 calories a day, and I don't need to eat that much ice cream. I somehow finished it and went outside where a couple guys were talking and a young boy was cautiously investigating Penny. I could tell he wanted to touch it, but was raised well enough to leave what's not his alone. One of the guys asked where I was going, so they got the story. As one of them was wearing a volunteer firefighter tshirt, I queried them about camping spots up the road. I wasn't going to be able to make South Pass by sunset, but I had another 10-15 miles in me. He told me that along the road is all public land, so I could just throw up my tent wherever I wished.
Almost 12 miles later, I found a flatish bit in the leeward depression behind a hill. I put up the tent and watched one of the more stunning sunsets I've seen in a while. I kept alternating between looking at the colors in the sky and on the Wind River Mountains, now 80 miles closer to me, and reading more of The Odyssey while the light was still strong enough. At one point with the sun just above the horizon, it started raining lightly, so I got a faint but nearly complete arc of a rainbow. The orange hue on the horizon stayed for nearly 45 minutes after the sun went down. Venus and a crescent moon hung near the spot where the sun was last seen, but it was a long time before it was dark enough for most of the stars to come out.
There were times when the breeze died down where it was completely silent around me. I probably could have heard a deer mouse trying to sneak up on me. Also, I could tell from the lights from the few passing cars that in the morning I would have a short climb, a dip, and then a longer climb up. As it turned out, that longer climb was 5.2 miles away, so it is not a surprise that even in the desert silence, it was several minutes between when I first saw the lights coming from that direction and actually heard the engine. Overall, it was a beautiful ending to wonderful day.
Day 16, Kemmerer, WY - Camp east of Farson, WY
83.5 miles, 1175.95 overall, 6:32:27 today of 103:10:06 total and a high speed of 31.2
Well, so much for a 9:00 start. It ended up being closer to 10. We had another good talk about a wide range of topics and, as I was talking to him, one of the housekeepers ran into the office with my phone charger in her hand. Oh thank you thank you thank you. I probably would be in Casper before I realized I didn't have it. Eventually I left VJ and started riding. I passed again the original JC Penney store from 1902 right on the main triangle in town. It's probably about a quarter of the size of one of the mall department store versions.
I knew there was some more climbing in store for me, and sure enough 8 miles out of town, I found myself at the 7410' pass of Round Mountain. Then, as I the road turned north around the top of the hill, a wide vista of semi-arid desert and mountains opened before me. I could see from the Tetons to my northwest to the Wind River Range that lay across my path. I took WY 372 to Fontanelle, a hamlet that does not even appear on the official state highway map. The route I had scored before the trip had me take one county road to another in order to hit highway 28. It would save me about 3.5 miles from going directly down to 28. Weighing the unpaved county road before me with the extra mileage on an evenly paved state highway, I decided to just take the paved road. Even though it was further, I'm certain that it was still faster to take the highway.
Highway 28 marks an entrance to the Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge. It is a vast hilly desert, covered with scrub brush and grasses. It is home to every species of bird native to Wyoming, as well as elk, bull moose, antelope, a wide variety of rodents and other small mammals, and innumerable insects. Someone needs to be at the bottom of the food chain. There are also several herds of open range cattle and from about a mile away I saw a man on horseback who with three dogs was herding a large flock of sheep west. Throughout the day, but particularly in the wildlife refuge, I saw at least 60 antelope (usually in groups of 5-12) one fat, angry badger, a whole gopher village, several deermice, three peregrine falcons and several other large birds of prey too far off to clearly identify. It was fantastic. There was one solo male antelope who wanted to show how easily he could keep up with me. About 100' off my left, he ran with me for nearly half a mile without any real exertion. I was puffing along at 18mph, not quite going at 100%, but definitely putting forth an extra effort. Then he put on a burst of speed and slanted away from the road over a hill. So I can't outrun an antelope. I'm ok with that. I also reflected upon the fact that I'm glad it wasn't a male bullmoose trying to outrun me because that easily could have turned not pretty.
Also along the road through the wilderness are several historical markers. For much of that stretch, the Oregon, California and Utah trails, as well as the overland stagecoach line and the pony express line all ran along the same path. There are points where you can still clearly see the rut marks from the heavy covered wagons. I passed markers for the Mormon Emigrant Trail, parts of which I also rode on in Nevada and Utah, and for Simpson's Hollow, the location of one of the three engagements in the brief Utah War between US President James Buchanan and Utah Territorial Governor Brigham Young. It was a war fought over a lack of communication between the federal government and the young territory.
72 miles after I started my morning, I had gotten to Farson. There was a cafe on the town's corner, so I stopped in for a sandwich. They had a large ice cream selection, and in the time I was eating, plenty of people came in for ice cream. Watching them, I suddenly was craving orange sherbet, so I ordered a single scoop. It was more than half a pint of ice cream balanced precariously atop a cone. And most of the people had been ordering doubles. I'm burning at least 5000 calories a day, and I don't need to eat that much ice cream. I somehow finished it and went outside where a couple guys were talking and a young boy was cautiously investigating Penny. I could tell he wanted to touch it, but was raised well enough to leave what's not his alone. One of the guys asked where I was going, so they got the story. As one of them was wearing a volunteer firefighter tshirt, I queried them about camping spots up the road. I wasn't going to be able to make South Pass by sunset, but I had another 10-15 miles in me. He told me that along the road is all public land, so I could just throw up my tent wherever I wished.
Almost 12 miles later, I found a flatish bit in the leeward depression behind a hill. I put up the tent and watched one of the more stunning sunsets I've seen in a while. I kept alternating between looking at the colors in the sky and on the Wind River Mountains, now 80 miles closer to me, and reading more of The Odyssey while the light was still strong enough. At one point with the sun just above the horizon, it started raining lightly, so I got a faint but nearly complete arc of a rainbow. The orange hue on the horizon stayed for nearly 45 minutes after the sun went down. Venus and a crescent moon hung near the spot where the sun was last seen, but it was a long time before it was dark enough for most of the stars to come out.
There were times when the breeze died down where it was completely silent around me. I probably could have heard a deer mouse trying to sneak up on me. Also, I could tell from the lights from the few passing cars that in the morning I would have a short climb, a dip, and then a longer climb up. As it turned out, that longer climb was 5.2 miles away, so it is not a surprise that even in the desert silence, it was several minutes between when I first saw the lights coming from that direction and actually heard the engine. Overall, it was a beautiful ending to wonderful day.
Day 16, Kemmerer, WY - Camp east of Farson, WY
83.5 miles, 1175.95 overall, 6:32:27 today of 103:10:06 total and a high speed of 31.2
Friday, May 14, 2010
Mile 1092.45 - I give us a day off
Seeing as I had broken 1000 miles the day before and that I had crossed three states and most importantly, that it was raining/snowing most of the day to the east of me, I decided to take a day off. I went to the office to tell the them of my intention to stay another night. VJ, the owner, talked to me for about a half an hour, in the process offering to sell me the motel. Don't think I didn't think about that too for several miles.
Anyway, I went back to the room and relaxed for a couple hours. Then, when it seemed that the rain was pretty much all to the east of me, I decided to take a day trip. 11 miles west of Kemmerer is Fossil Butte National Monument. 50,000,000 years ago, that part of the state was the all under a large freshwater lake. Because of the periodic expanding and retracting of the shoreline and the nature of the rock that formed the lake bed, there are hundreds of thousands of fossils in the area's mountains. 35 years ago, a large swath was turned into national park, but for decades before that, people used to carry off fossils by the truckload.
Highway 30 getting there was typically hilly western Wyoming terrain. There was a good long downhill going west, but because of the headwind, I was only able to get up to 36.5mph, the same high speed I had the day before. Because I had a place to leave all my stuff, I had only a couple bottles of water on the bike. I'm so used to the extra weight on the front tire, I forgot how lightly she handles without the ballast. We were wobbly for the first bit as it really has been over 1000 miles since we've ridden without the weight. Quickly enough we figured each other out, and then Penny reminded me of how quick and spry she is under all my luggage. We were about 75% faster than with the weight. There were several hills I climbed that I never dropped my front gear out of third. With all the weight in third gear I'd be taking those hills at about 4.5mph.
Anyway. The visitor's center for the national monument is 4 miles off the highway. Halfway along, I noticed a grey rock on the side of the road that seemed shinier than the other rocks around. As I got up to it, I saw it was someone's camera. Anyone in a car going 35mph would never have seen it. I took it up to the visitor's center and gave it to the ranger. Apparently someone had been asking if anyone found a camera earlier that morning. I hope it eventually gets back to it's owner.
I looked at the displays at the center, then asked the ranger about the couple hikes around the park. She told me that one of them was closed at the moment because storms had knocked down trees in the last couple weeks. But, since I was on my bike and not in a car, I could go around the gate and at least ride up to the trailhead. So that's cool, I always like the perks of not having a car. I ended up riding up to the gate, trying for several minutes to get a good picture of a bluejay that was flitting around, and then decided that I didn't want to take the climb up to the top of the bluff. The ranger also told me of the old US 30, which parallels the current (paved) 30 back into town. She said there were a couple old mining tunnels to explore along the road, which is something that I would totally poke my nose into.
Right by where Old 30 starts is the Ulrichs Fossil Gallery. Curious as always, I stopped in. Penny, the woman working in the gallery, started talking to me about everything from transcontinental cycling to the process of excavating and processing the fossils. Because it is state land, they have to give the state anything rare that they find (pretty much everything other than fish) but they have lots of very nicely framed fish fossils for sale. The one I really wanted was $420, but I really couldn't justify the purchase at the moment. Maybe next time I go back. I was invited back to go dig in the quarry, because it had been too rainy the last several days to go up this afternoon. As I was talking to Penny (gallery worker, not bike) four other tourists came in, and soon we were all talking about intricacies of riding one's bike across a country.
I started onto Old 30, but very quickly two things were obvious: this is not a good road when wet and the heavy trucks driven by the crew working on the Union-Pacific rail line nearby really made things worse. At a couple points I had to stop to pull the thick sticky mud out of the brake calipers. After a couple miles I was able to get back to the paved 30 and took that back into town.
I went out to dinner at the Bootlegger, the restaurant VJ had recommended the day before, but had closed before I got there. I made sure to get there before 8 this time. The one completely ridiculous thing about Kemmerer is that at 8:05, the only restaurant in town that is open is the Taco Time, a little drive thru taco joint. Um, no. Anyway, soup, entree, dessert and two beers and it was $25. I love how much less expensive food is here than at home in New York. I have still been tipping by my new york standard, which I'm sure translates into gross over-tipping by local custom. Oh well, I havn't met a waiter who minds yet.
After dinner, I went to the bar next door and had two beers and two shots and it was $11.50. That's a beautiful thing. Also, the beer was Leinenkugel's which is rare to find outside the midwest.
I got back to the room with enough daylight left to clean all the mud off of Penny (the bike, not the employee). I probably got a good 6 ounces of mud off her frame. So yeah, I give us a day off and what do we do? Ride 32 miles worth of hills and get really muddy. Sounds like a good day off to me.
Day 15, Kemmerer WY - Fossil Butte Ntl Mnmt and back to Kemmerer
32.0 miles, 1092.45 total 2:58:37 today, 88:32:27 total, high speed 36.5
Anyway, I went back to the room and relaxed for a couple hours. Then, when it seemed that the rain was pretty much all to the east of me, I decided to take a day trip. 11 miles west of Kemmerer is Fossil Butte National Monument. 50,000,000 years ago, that part of the state was the all under a large freshwater lake. Because of the periodic expanding and retracting of the shoreline and the nature of the rock that formed the lake bed, there are hundreds of thousands of fossils in the area's mountains. 35 years ago, a large swath was turned into national park, but for decades before that, people used to carry off fossils by the truckload.
Highway 30 getting there was typically hilly western Wyoming terrain. There was a good long downhill going west, but because of the headwind, I was only able to get up to 36.5mph, the same high speed I had the day before. Because I had a place to leave all my stuff, I had only a couple bottles of water on the bike. I'm so used to the extra weight on the front tire, I forgot how lightly she handles without the ballast. We were wobbly for the first bit as it really has been over 1000 miles since we've ridden without the weight. Quickly enough we figured each other out, and then Penny reminded me of how quick and spry she is under all my luggage. We were about 75% faster than with the weight. There were several hills I climbed that I never dropped my front gear out of third. With all the weight in third gear I'd be taking those hills at about 4.5mph.
Anyway. The visitor's center for the national monument is 4 miles off the highway. Halfway along, I noticed a grey rock on the side of the road that seemed shinier than the other rocks around. As I got up to it, I saw it was someone's camera. Anyone in a car going 35mph would never have seen it. I took it up to the visitor's center and gave it to the ranger. Apparently someone had been asking if anyone found a camera earlier that morning. I hope it eventually gets back to it's owner.
I looked at the displays at the center, then asked the ranger about the couple hikes around the park. She told me that one of them was closed at the moment because storms had knocked down trees in the last couple weeks. But, since I was on my bike and not in a car, I could go around the gate and at least ride up to the trailhead. So that's cool, I always like the perks of not having a car. I ended up riding up to the gate, trying for several minutes to get a good picture of a bluejay that was flitting around, and then decided that I didn't want to take the climb up to the top of the bluff. The ranger also told me of the old US 30, which parallels the current (paved) 30 back into town. She said there were a couple old mining tunnels to explore along the road, which is something that I would totally poke my nose into.
Right by where Old 30 starts is the Ulrichs Fossil Gallery. Curious as always, I stopped in. Penny, the woman working in the gallery, started talking to me about everything from transcontinental cycling to the process of excavating and processing the fossils. Because it is state land, they have to give the state anything rare that they find (pretty much everything other than fish) but they have lots of very nicely framed fish fossils for sale. The one I really wanted was $420, but I really couldn't justify the purchase at the moment. Maybe next time I go back. I was invited back to go dig in the quarry, because it had been too rainy the last several days to go up this afternoon. As I was talking to Penny (gallery worker, not bike) four other tourists came in, and soon we were all talking about intricacies of riding one's bike across a country.
I started onto Old 30, but very quickly two things were obvious: this is not a good road when wet and the heavy trucks driven by the crew working on the Union-Pacific rail line nearby really made things worse. At a couple points I had to stop to pull the thick sticky mud out of the brake calipers. After a couple miles I was able to get back to the paved 30 and took that back into town.
I went out to dinner at the Bootlegger, the restaurant VJ had recommended the day before, but had closed before I got there. I made sure to get there before 8 this time. The one completely ridiculous thing about Kemmerer is that at 8:05, the only restaurant in town that is open is the Taco Time, a little drive thru taco joint. Um, no. Anyway, soup, entree, dessert and two beers and it was $25. I love how much less expensive food is here than at home in New York. I have still been tipping by my new york standard, which I'm sure translates into gross over-tipping by local custom. Oh well, I havn't met a waiter who minds yet.
After dinner, I went to the bar next door and had two beers and two shots and it was $11.50. That's a beautiful thing. Also, the beer was Leinenkugel's which is rare to find outside the midwest.
I got back to the room with enough daylight left to clean all the mud off of Penny (the bike, not the employee). I probably got a good 6 ounces of mud off her frame. So yeah, I give us a day off and what do we do? Ride 32 miles worth of hills and get really muddy. Sounds like a good day off to me.
Day 15, Kemmerer WY - Fossil Butte Ntl Mnmt and back to Kemmerer
32.0 miles, 1092.45 total 2:58:37 today, 88:32:27 total, high speed 36.5
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Mile 1060.8 - Aloha, Wyoming
Here it is already, the beginning of Week 3. I Feel like I accomplished a lot on day 14, I crossed another state line (a couple times), I hit mile 1000, I had my second century day, and I'm getting ever closer to being out of the mountains. Oh, and I also survived doing something I pray I never have to again.
I started in Coalville. I had the hotel breakfast which was a step up from the one in Provo, but obviously sourced from the same supplier. I bet I know who it is, too. I considered giving my legs another dip in the pool, I'm sure my knees would have appreciated it, but by the time I got rolling it was already 9, so it's for the better that I didn't. Also slashed were the plans to ride unladen up to the top of Echo Dam and back, which only would have been about 15 miles round trip, but if I was going to do that, I should have the night before.
I took Chalk Creek Road east out of Coalville towards Wyoming. The road follows some rolling hills, a decent combination of rise and descent. It is also really pretty. The Creek runs along the south side of the road for the most part with hills immediately to the left. Covering these hills and the valley created by the creek were lots and lots of livestock ranches. Horses, cows, goats, sheep, and since it's still spring baby versions of all of the above too. The frolicking lambs were perhaps the cutest. There was also one pig in Wyoming that ran circles in it's pen, squeeling happily as I rode by. It's the same behavior I saw in several dogs, she wanted to run with me. Also, my mom would be happy to hear, I passed a flock of sheep being watched by a Great Pyrenees. I didn't get a picture though.
I seem to have a similar effect on sheep as I do with cows. Most cows will stop mid-cud chew and watch in puzzlement as I roll by. Some might stand up if they were sitting, but generally the reaction is 'what the hell is that?' Sheep put their own twist on it. When they look up, a few will just stand there and watch, some will go back to grazing, and a few will bolt. My favorite were the ones that would see me coming, back away a few steps, graze some more, look up see I'm still there, back up a few more steps to eat then look up again. Horses seem to get what I'm doing, some of them just don't seem to know why I would do it.
Since I'm on the subject of critters, I also saw several gophers throughout the day, plenty of deer, several antelope, an eagle, a falcon and several birds I could not identify. Also, I didn't mention the day before the rock chucks on the Union-Pacific path. There were also lots of dead animals at the side of the road, but I won't get into too much detail about that. I just wonder, though, if the hunters in this area are more effective at killing things with their guns or their cars.
Anyway, Chalk Creek Road. More sheep as you got closer to Wyoming. Also, it was official, I had seen more deer in the desert than other cyclists in the whole state of Utah. Sigh. At mile 981.4, Utah's worries were mine no more, as I entered Wyoming from it's southwest corner. As I got to the state line, there was a horse in the pasture about 200' away. He watched me get off Penny, prop her next to the sign and take her picture. He shook his head, thought 'Tourists' to himself in horse and went back to his chomping. Also at the state line, to celebrate my freedom from various oppressive Utah laws, I took a small swig of whiskey. I in no way advocate riding while intoxicated, it is stupid, dangerous and stupid. It was really much more of a symbolic sip than a hearty swig. This would turn out to be handy a mile and a half later, as the dirt road I was on climbed to 7155'.
Along this road there were lots and lots of sheep. I've decided that sheep are not pretty. Perhaps I'm not the first to come to this conclusion and I'm sure that there are the sheep defenders out there who would say otherwise. Granted, frolicking lambs - adorable. Grazing recently shorn ewes - not so. As the road dipped and climbed again on it's way toward 7365', I passed a tow truck driver who was loading up someone's car. 'Hell of a place to break down', I called to the truck driver. He laughed as I cleanly made it up the hill the car couldn't.
My reward for getting up that hill was pavement. Beautiful, sweet asphalt, may you always be under my tires unless I choose otherwise. Unfortunately, the price of pavement was going back into Utah 4 miles later, as the road took a long swing around the butt of some hills. 4.5 miles after that though, I was crossing back into Wyoming for good.
Not that far back into the state, I hit mile 1000, after 80:27:11 of riding. Three and a half miles later, I was in Evanston, taking a quick lunch break. Part of the route that I was concerned about since I first set it was east of Evanston, getting to highway 189 on the way up to Kimmerer. On the map, it looked like there were a couple unnamed (and probably unpaved) roads that would eventually get me to the right highway. The first road I wanted to take was out, presumably for construction. But, according to my map, there was another way around. I spent about 45 minutes probing the hills for through streets. The few that looked like they would go through: one ended in a junkyard, one at a heavily marked gate saying private property, and the other wound up outside the sheriff's office.
There was one road that I knew connected to 189, but it was the last road I wanted to take, my old friend I-80. There was an rest area/info booth off the highway, so I went in and asked how I could get to 189. The woman told me to just take the expressway, that it would be fine and if I had any issues with a state trooper stopping me to have them call her. Ok. I really didn't like the plan, but the only other option would be to go back into Utah and add 35 miles swinging up to highway 30 to get to Kimmerer.
For 11.5 miles, I rode along, with gas tankers and double trailer trucks zipping by at 70 mph 8 feet away. I think there's a huge difference between a car going 55-65 six feet away as on most highways and the heavy traffic and higher speeds on the expressway. Adding to my woes was a 6% grade up to 7450', which I grinded up at about 6mph. Finally, I got onto 189 and saw the sign saying Kimmerer, 37 miles. I kinda wish it was about 15 miles closer, but that was my aim for the day.
189 was a really nice road to take. Along the length of it, the shoulder is a lane wide with the rumble strip right along the white line. So I was well separated from the traffic, which is fine by me. The road runs along the base of some hills to the east, in a wide valley stretching a mile or more to the hills to the west. In this space, I saw a lot of deer. Then, after 20 miles or so, I saw a small herd of antelope. They saw me coming and stood their ground uncertainly for a moment, before, as a body, they turned tail and ran from the road. A few miles later I saw another dozen antelope that went half way up the hill to stop and watch if I was following. I didn't. I had been followed by storm clouds since Evanston and they seemed to be catching up.
I finally made it into Diamondville, a small town attached to the southern flank of Kimmerer. I went into a motel near the highway to inquire about room rates, found it was almost twice what I wanted to pay, and continued into town.
I pulled up to a different motel's office, just as the rain was starting to come down. The owner saw me ride up, and after explaining my trip to him, he was impressed. He offered to give me the room at his cost, which was fantastic. I will take it. My knees were especially glad for the stop.
Day 14, Coalville UT - Kimmerer, WY
104.26 miles, 1060.8 total. 10:14:09 today for 85:33:18 altogether and a high speed of 36.5
I started in Coalville. I had the hotel breakfast which was a step up from the one in Provo, but obviously sourced from the same supplier. I bet I know who it is, too. I considered giving my legs another dip in the pool, I'm sure my knees would have appreciated it, but by the time I got rolling it was already 9, so it's for the better that I didn't. Also slashed were the plans to ride unladen up to the top of Echo Dam and back, which only would have been about 15 miles round trip, but if I was going to do that, I should have the night before.
I took Chalk Creek Road east out of Coalville towards Wyoming. The road follows some rolling hills, a decent combination of rise and descent. It is also really pretty. The Creek runs along the south side of the road for the most part with hills immediately to the left. Covering these hills and the valley created by the creek were lots and lots of livestock ranches. Horses, cows, goats, sheep, and since it's still spring baby versions of all of the above too. The frolicking lambs were perhaps the cutest. There was also one pig in Wyoming that ran circles in it's pen, squeeling happily as I rode by. It's the same behavior I saw in several dogs, she wanted to run with me. Also, my mom would be happy to hear, I passed a flock of sheep being watched by a Great Pyrenees. I didn't get a picture though.
I seem to have a similar effect on sheep as I do with cows. Most cows will stop mid-cud chew and watch in puzzlement as I roll by. Some might stand up if they were sitting, but generally the reaction is 'what the hell is that?' Sheep put their own twist on it. When they look up, a few will just stand there and watch, some will go back to grazing, and a few will bolt. My favorite were the ones that would see me coming, back away a few steps, graze some more, look up see I'm still there, back up a few more steps to eat then look up again. Horses seem to get what I'm doing, some of them just don't seem to know why I would do it.
Since I'm on the subject of critters, I also saw several gophers throughout the day, plenty of deer, several antelope, an eagle, a falcon and several birds I could not identify. Also, I didn't mention the day before the rock chucks on the Union-Pacific path. There were also lots of dead animals at the side of the road, but I won't get into too much detail about that. I just wonder, though, if the hunters in this area are more effective at killing things with their guns or their cars.
Anyway, Chalk Creek Road. More sheep as you got closer to Wyoming. Also, it was official, I had seen more deer in the desert than other cyclists in the whole state of Utah. Sigh. At mile 981.4, Utah's worries were mine no more, as I entered Wyoming from it's southwest corner. As I got to the state line, there was a horse in the pasture about 200' away. He watched me get off Penny, prop her next to the sign and take her picture. He shook his head, thought 'Tourists' to himself in horse and went back to his chomping. Also at the state line, to celebrate my freedom from various oppressive Utah laws, I took a small swig of whiskey. I in no way advocate riding while intoxicated, it is stupid, dangerous and stupid. It was really much more of a symbolic sip than a hearty swig. This would turn out to be handy a mile and a half later, as the dirt road I was on climbed to 7155'.
Along this road there were lots and lots of sheep. I've decided that sheep are not pretty. Perhaps I'm not the first to come to this conclusion and I'm sure that there are the sheep defenders out there who would say otherwise. Granted, frolicking lambs - adorable. Grazing recently shorn ewes - not so. As the road dipped and climbed again on it's way toward 7365', I passed a tow truck driver who was loading up someone's car. 'Hell of a place to break down', I called to the truck driver. He laughed as I cleanly made it up the hill the car couldn't.
My reward for getting up that hill was pavement. Beautiful, sweet asphalt, may you always be under my tires unless I choose otherwise. Unfortunately, the price of pavement was going back into Utah 4 miles later, as the road took a long swing around the butt of some hills. 4.5 miles after that though, I was crossing back into Wyoming for good.
Not that far back into the state, I hit mile 1000, after 80:27:11 of riding. Three and a half miles later, I was in Evanston, taking a quick lunch break. Part of the route that I was concerned about since I first set it was east of Evanston, getting to highway 189 on the way up to Kimmerer. On the map, it looked like there were a couple unnamed (and probably unpaved) roads that would eventually get me to the right highway. The first road I wanted to take was out, presumably for construction. But, according to my map, there was another way around. I spent about 45 minutes probing the hills for through streets. The few that looked like they would go through: one ended in a junkyard, one at a heavily marked gate saying private property, and the other wound up outside the sheriff's office.
There was one road that I knew connected to 189, but it was the last road I wanted to take, my old friend I-80. There was an rest area/info booth off the highway, so I went in and asked how I could get to 189. The woman told me to just take the expressway, that it would be fine and if I had any issues with a state trooper stopping me to have them call her. Ok. I really didn't like the plan, but the only other option would be to go back into Utah and add 35 miles swinging up to highway 30 to get to Kimmerer.
For 11.5 miles, I rode along, with gas tankers and double trailer trucks zipping by at 70 mph 8 feet away. I think there's a huge difference between a car going 55-65 six feet away as on most highways and the heavy traffic and higher speeds on the expressway. Adding to my woes was a 6% grade up to 7450', which I grinded up at about 6mph. Finally, I got onto 189 and saw the sign saying Kimmerer, 37 miles. I kinda wish it was about 15 miles closer, but that was my aim for the day.
189 was a really nice road to take. Along the length of it, the shoulder is a lane wide with the rumble strip right along the white line. So I was well separated from the traffic, which is fine by me. The road runs along the base of some hills to the east, in a wide valley stretching a mile or more to the hills to the west. In this space, I saw a lot of deer. Then, after 20 miles or so, I saw a small herd of antelope. They saw me coming and stood their ground uncertainly for a moment, before, as a body, they turned tail and ran from the road. A few miles later I saw another dozen antelope that went half way up the hill to stop and watch if I was following. I didn't. I had been followed by storm clouds since Evanston and they seemed to be catching up.
I finally made it into Diamondville, a small town attached to the southern flank of Kimmerer. I went into a motel near the highway to inquire about room rates, found it was almost twice what I wanted to pay, and continued into town.
I pulled up to a different motel's office, just as the rain was starting to come down. The owner saw me ride up, and after explaining my trip to him, he was impressed. He offered to give me the room at his cost, which was fantastic. I will take it. My knees were especially glad for the stop.
Day 14, Coalville UT - Kimmerer, WY
104.26 miles, 1060.8 total. 10:14:09 today for 85:33:18 altogether and a high speed of 36.5
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