Leaving Pinedale I had a fairly daunting journey ahead. 220 miles of desert to cross to the next patch of civilization, Rawlins, with only one small town in between, and potentially very few water sources. Especially given the summer long drought and heatwave they have had out here.
Day one and fifty miles to little sandy creek was on the whole just a preparation for what was to come. While the landscape did begin to look more and more arid, signs of human life were present for a lot of the day. But the name of the dirt road
I took was 'big sandy'. A definite clue.
I made camp at sandy creek anyway, and it was a lovely little spot. Nestled around a river you can see it from miles away as the only patch of trees on the landscape. I have included a picture of my pitch among the trees, and my outdoor Ray Mears style fridge for my Mountain Dew. I don't normally carry 2 litre bottles of soda with me I should point out, the bottle was to be my reserve water tanker for the long waterless stretches, strapped on top of a pannier. A bit like spitfires and hurricanes used to attach extra fuel tanks to their wings for special long missions in WW2.
The only problem with my campsite as it turned out was that I had been misinformed by the American cycling association that anyone could camp there. You actually need a permit from Wyoming for the land, which is held by the lovely couple Mike and Bobbie, who run an outfitting business there (tourists come sleep in their teepees, and then go out on horse back treks into the mountains and desert). Well after their surprise at finding me in their creek, they were very kind and let me stay, and even gave me some food and a cold beer. They explained that actually divide riders end up staying there all the time because of the bad info and they do like having them to stay.
So the next morning I set out into the wilderness, and the hostile but impressive vistas left me feeling small and in awe. A real experience not to forget, and one that would continue, with a growing sense of isolation, for the next two days. Also I found it nearly impossible to take any kind of photo with either of my cameras to capture the immensity of the views. Sorry.
Riding across the very top of the continental divide with views of incredible scale to either side, I saw another divide rider parked up having a break. Knowing who it probably was from Twitter I had a Dr. Livingstone moment. 'Maarten I presume?' Anyway Maarten is a thoroughly nice Dutch fella, with impeccable English of course, who I have been riding with for the last few days.
We passed through south pass city later that day. Another gold rush ghost town. But to be honest, while fun to look around, it felt a little more like a cheap amusement park with its plastic props, especially in comparison to Bannack's creepy air of sudden abandonment and its ghostly whisperings.
A few miles further on though was our last little outpost before Rawlins, still maybe a 150 miles away. Atlantic city. I think maybe Atlantic is meant as some kind of desert humour. However it has a great little bar and the chance for a proper meal was welcome. While we were eating a guy, literally, bounced into the room with his baby daughter and wife in tow. Ethan is one of the maniacs I have been becoming more and more curious about. A great divide racer! Every year they have a race along the route, and two years ago Ethan came third, and when he saw he was driving past Atlantic city he wanted to come in the bar and see if any divide riders were about. Now get this. Ethan completed the route in 17 days! Frankly something I just can't get my head around. He said he averaged around a 150 miles a day, starting with days of a 190 and finishing with days around a 130 miles. Now more than ever I don't know how it can be done. With little sleep seems one thing to be sure of.
That night Maarten and I camped at sweet water river. The only other life forms around a few cows disgruntled at us being in their spot. We made use of a fire ring though, and had a surreal moment sitting round it as it turned dark and a storm rolled in, forked lightning hitting the hills in front of us. That I think really did make us feel small and vulnerable. We literally had nowhere to run to. I'm not sure a tent is much use against several thousand volts. I guess it might pack up smaller in its bag if it did get hit though.
One thing I have noticed out at informal campsites which is odd, people from Wyoming and Montana seem pretty good at keeping their country litter free...apart from bullet casings! Check out the picture. They were all over the place.
The next day was the big slog. Seventy miles of desert to our next possible water source, and even that wasn't guaranteed. Well we made it, but I can tell you towards the end of the day with some headwinds, while physically we were ok, it was a real mental battle to get there. And what elation we felt to find a full flowing reservoir there, complete with it's own little musk rat family. The experience of traveling all day in the hope of finding water is something I have only really experienced through media such as tv programs and films etc. Believe me though, I can now understand to an extent the joy oft depicted in those films and programs.
One thing we saw a lot of and are worth mentioning are pronghorns. These things look like antelope, but are incredibly well adapted for the landscape. They can see like eagles, and can run for miles and miles at 30 to 40mph, and sprint at 60. To put it in context, my fastest speed on this trip on a steep downhill was 41.1mph. Incredible speed, and hence why they have no natural predators, and I couldn't get a good picture on my phone. Click here to see some internet pictures.
Anyway, yesterday I think we craved civilisation and practically sprinted the fifty five remaining miles out of the desert to Rawlins. A lot of people have told us this is a tough town. I can see why. The state penitentiary is here and a few shifty looking types. But I like it. It has character, and some friendly types too. And after 220 miles of desert I can't tell you how good an ice cold beer tastes, and how great huge portions of food are. I made the same mistake again though. I ordered a side with my burger. I mean how big could a side of loaded potato skins be? Well try two whole jacket potatoes loaded with cheese, pork and bbq sauce. Nom!
Photos: it's surprising how many llamas and alpacas you see out here ;-) Also I love the evidence of the little evangelism Maarten ran into out here!
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