Blowin' in the Wind

' How many times must a man look up, before he can see the sky?'  - Bob Dylan

Colorado, Rocky mountain high!

Wyoming has been a bit of a blur. Since crossing into Wyoming it's taken us 8 days to cross into our 4th US state, Colorado.

A couple of huge cycling days made the full state traverse easier, but the going has gotten tough over the last few days. The first big day came when we rode from Lava Mountain Lodge to Pinedale. A whopper at 154 kms, which included the climb up and over Union Pass. Just before we got to the pass we chatted to a local farmer. He told us that just down the road someone was mauled and killed by a grizzly bear. Cycling up hill at 7 kms an hour with this in the back of your head isn't ideal, especially when every rock, shrub and bush looks like a bear. After the summiting the pass we descended slowly along a plateau and stopped for the most rewarding peanut butter sarmies ever.

The first of many golden-yellow Aspen trees lined the route and we eventually came to the tar road that would lead us to Pinedale, another 80 kms away. The peleton held together for the haul to Pinedale and to the first restaurant. The sign outside that read 'PIZZA BUFFET' was like a sign from heaven. I think we finished 3 litres of Pepsi before the first piece of pizza hit the table and the effects of dehaydration subsided.

After leaving Pinedale the landscape changed again and we found ourselves in a Karoo-like desert. A definite sign we were heading into the Great Basin of Wyoming renowed for its flat riding and winds. We got just that.

Records were smashed on our second big day of cycling. We managed to leave Little Sandy Creek relatively early, but by lunch we had only completed 50 kms, taking us through South Pass City and Atlantic City. The people who named these tiny towns were probably hoping for bigger things. The climb out of Atlantic City was our last for some time. Then it all came together. A potent tailwind and flat hard gravel helped us put another 100 kms behind us by sunset. An indada was held over a couple of naartjies and by the time the sun had slipped behind the plains the decision was made to push on as long as the conditions played in our favour. The 'cooking in the cave' headlamps lead the way as we dodged rabbits and potholes for the next 40 kms. We staggered into the campsite at 10:30 pm after 190 kms and over 12 hours in the saddle. Not much was said before it was tents up and lights out.

Rawlins was the next stop. An 87 km stretch of highway provided us with the most mind-numbingly boring ride of the whole route, but we got there safe and sound.

The last two days have been the toughest yet. Leaving Rawlins we hit a gale force headwind that didn't let up for the whole 87 kms of riding. I really hope that that was the last time I ever have to pedal downhill. We hit the forest and got out of the wind under Aspen trees. The golden canopy held the elements back that night and we hoped for better conditions the next morning. We packed up our tents and kit under what we thought were unassuming clouds. I've never seen a storm roll in so quickly. Lightning, thunder and rain all came down at once and one of us was caught short going about the normal morning routine out in the bushes.

We were on the bikes as fast as possible. After a series of muddy uphills we were covered and the rain was not letting up. We thought by reaching the tar road we were in for a better time. The fast downhills froze us. It was the coldest we've been all trip and easily the coldest I've ever been. We stopped every now and then and laughed about how cold we were. I think hysteria had set in. Sanity prevailed and we got to Ladder Ranch fighting of hyperthermia. The owner Eamon let us in and got the coffee going. That was us done for the day. Keith's, now famous, soup de jour (4 cubes of beef stock) was later on the boil in our own cabin and we were very glad to have the comforts of warm beds and a hot shower again. Some of us got more comfortable than others.