TUE 7/13 -- Saratoga to Rawlins WY (42)
A very short and nondescript ride, except for two things:
(thing 1) We rode a chunk of miles -- 13, I think it was -- on I-80, an interstate freeway. That's the official Trans-Am route. I saw a few west-to-easters on the other side, heading in the opposite direction. And it wasn't too bad; we've ridden lots worse roads on this tour. The shoulder was very wide and smooth, and it wasn't too busy. Some pretty good antelope sightings, too. (Really!) I've often joked about biking the DC beltway or some other comparable road; now I've actually done it. I don't feel a lot of need to repeat the experience, though, so I think I'll check it off my list and move on to other things.
(thing 2) We faced, once again, a terrifically strong west wind just about the whole day -- it took hard pedaling just to keep from stopping dead in one's tracks.
Because it was a short ride I didn't pack a lunch -- I find I've grown a little weary of cheese/tomato/lunch meat sandwiches on whole wheat, even though I often change it up and go lunch meat/tomato/cheese -- so when I got to Rawlins I rode through town looking for a place where I could buy one. I found a perfect spot -- a little hippy-dippy (i.e., multi-pierced wait staff) coffee shop/cafe/ice cream parlor on Main St, and settled in. Remember how I said there was plenty of sand but no sage at the Sage and Sand Motel the night before? Well that gap was filled about midway through "lunch" (it was about 10:30 in the morning) when Sage wandered in, in full bulging-backpack-and-walking-stick hiking regalia. She's hiking the "Great Divide" trail, from Mexico to Canada, by herself. Been at it for a couple of months; got a couple more months to go. Spent some spells of time in the company of other hikers but found it frustrating and unsatisfying to have to consider what others might want to do, so she's happier going it alone. She asked how I could stand having someone else control the pace of the ride, and decide where I'll stay, and for how long. I talked about tradeoffs; I don't think I convinced her. She gave me a gift, which I accepted on behalf of the team -- a package of Outward Bound Granola -- because "I am so sick of granola that I don't think I'll ever be able to eat another bite." Funny -- she looked like, and carried the name of, the granola type.
The wind was howling even harder when I reached the wind- and sand-swept and completely shade-free heights of the Western Hills "campground, which was primarily an RV parking lot. With the help of others I was able to wrestle my tent into some semblance of set-up-ness, then I listened to it flap and snap in protest through much of the night.
(Sent from my iPhone)
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