And Just Like That ...

 ... We Were Done

Ok, we admit it. We have been seriously derelict in posting to the blog. But we have excuses, all kinds of them.  Actually, the days were long, the evenings full (dinner, tent set up, doing laundry when available, planning the next day’s ride and associated logistics, and just being tired - which, we know, seems to accompany old age. But we had some great experiences.

 Having made it through Montana and Idaho, we entered Wyoming and became immediately subject to what are euphemistically called ‘Wyoming winds.” They weren't cool summer breeze - cool perhaps, but not a breeze. They were pretty fierce headwinds, which made getting to and through the Great Divide Basin a bit of a challenge. The Basin is an area of land in the Red Desert of Wyoming where none of the water falling as rain drains into any ocean, directly or indirectly. It simply evaporates. It is about 100 miles across what amounts to a high desert with little water, rough unpaved roads, no cell service, no shade, and little to no vehicular traffic. No place for mechanical or other issues. It is also wide open and therefore subject to the aforementioned Wyoming winds. We entered the Basin from Atlantic City (no casinos there) after spending a night in a cabin run by Wild Bill and his wife, Carmela. Great folks. Plain spoken, hard working, good people who are kind and generous.  On top of that, they do keep a loaded rifle by the front door in case a bear makes an unwanted appearance. Bill himself is quite the character. He used to be an outfitter and hunter and told us that once he was hunting, took a break to sit down and lean against a tree, heard a growl, looked up and a mountain lion in the tree was ready to leap on on him. Luckily he had his gun in his hand and managed to shoot the animal before it got him. That might be one reason he picked up the nickname Wild Bill.  

Leaving Atlantic City, we made a big push and got through most of the Basin in a day (about 90 miles of it) but suffered from the winds (relentless 20 mph if heading due south, which we were most of the time), a hail storm, some rain, and the heat. It was a long day but we were rewarded when we finally stopped in Bairoil, a little town at the edge of the Basin where just about everyone there works in teh oil fields.  There is also a vey small Baptist church there, with an attached apartment that the church makes available to cyclists and others in need. We arrived late but the door was left open, and we were invited to use anything there we needed, including helping ourselves to food, a shower, and even a bed (just to be clear, Mike got the bed and Bill got a futon). The offering of those accommodations speaks to some really generous and wonderful folks - who we never met, by the way - who allow complete strangers to use their facilities. We made a donation of course, but were so impressed by these people that we are considering conversion to the Baptist faith.    

After crossing the Basin we rode to Rawlins, WY. Nice enough but not a place to stay too long. Out of Rawlins we hade a two-day ride to Brush Mountain Lodge. If the winds in the Basin were strong, and they were, it is hard to describe the strength of the winds from Rawlins to our campsite that night. We were headed due south straight into a headwind that would almost bring us to a complete stop on certain climbs. Even on descents there was little relief as we needed to pedal to keep some momentum. It was a very long and trying day. We arrived at the campsite late, tired and hungry. We set up camp, got a bite to eat, climbed into our tents and fell asleep. But the next day brought some relief. From our campsite we rode to Brush Mountain Lodge.

 Brush Mountain Lodge caters to cyclist and is managed and run by Kirstin - quirky, lovely, hospitable, and fun. She runs an interesting business. There are cabins, a bunkhouse and campsites, each with a known fixed charge. We chose a cabin. However, other costs -pizza, soda, beer, snacks, breakfast, lunch - are on the honor system. When you settle up when leaving, she simply asks you what had (i.e., no detailed accounting) and then you suggest a cost for those services. Typically (we hope), most err on the side of paying more than what they owe. We certainly did. 

We had planned on staying one night, then heading for Steamboat Springs the next morning. But , you know.  The best laid plans, and all that. We departed the next morning, but about an hour or two into the ride it started to rain. Not too hard and not long but enough to turn the road into what is known as ‘peanut butter mud.’ It’s a good description. Once you are in it, the bike’s wheels get coated with a thick paste which then makes its way into the bike's drive train.  Soon - very soon - it is practically impossible to move the bike - literally. Worse, Mike’s belt drive (his bike is belt, not chain, driven) came off the rear sprocket. We spent an hour trying to get it back on but to no avail. The mud was too thick. We figured we would not make much progress going forward, so we opted to go back to the lodge to use the hose there.  Unfortunately, that was about 13 miles back so Mike had to walk his bike back to the lodge. Bill alternated between walking and riding when his bike permitted.  We thought we might bump into a pickup or other vehicle that may be able to give Mike a ride, but that was not meant to be.  But the rain had stopped and it was not hot, so Mike's long walk was not too bad. After cleaning up the bike(s) and getting the belt back on it made sense to stay another night at the lodge, which was fine with us. And we had a good time with some others that were stranded there because of the mud.  It could have been a lot worse. 

 We left the lodge the next day, crossed over Brush Mountain (there was a mile long hike-a-bike to get to the summit)  and headed for Steamboat Springs. We spent that night in SBS and then headed toward Frisco and Breckenridge via Kremmling. We climbed up Boreas Pass, which is about 11,500 feet, with relative ease as the grade was essentially railroad grade - i.e., 2 - 4%. It was fun to reach the top. After Boreas Pass we still had 40 or so miles to Hartsel, a small town with an infamous reputation among cyclist for camping at the back of a saloon among picnic tables, a dumpster, a lopsided port-a-potty and other assorted debris. Bill threatened to harm himself if he had to camp there but we were lucky and found a very nice lodge nearby and stayed there. Calamity avoided. 

 After Hartsel we rode on to Salida, a very cool town in southern Colorado where we determined that for a variety of reasons that making it to the border was not likely in the cards so we decided to end the ride. It was not all that unexpected, as we agreed to check our progress at the one month mark and continue on to Mexico if it was in striking distance.  We made good progress - over 1800 miles on the route,- but the border required another several weeks at the pace we were on.  Disappointing in one sense, but satisfying in another.  So we finished a majority of the route and have one segment remaining.  We may decide to go back and finish the ride next year, but that decision is for another day. 

 Thanks to all who followed along - albeit sparingly given the dearth of posts - and wished us well. We truly appreciated it. And, of course, thanks to Ann and Susan for supporting this quixotic effort, although both seemed to get along - in fact, seemed to thrive - in our absence. How could that be? We are currently investigating.