Wyoming is big. I could stop there and that would sum up the foundation of riding in that state, but then, I wouldn't be able to tell of its incredible geographic diversity. A Divide racer's first experience with Wyoming is a rather majestic brushing with the Tetons, and I surely wish I would have had the eyes for the scenery during my passing. As my luck would have it, my saddle sores, achilles tendonitis and knee pain came together in such a savage way that I literally rode through one of the most spectacular sections of the course with my head down, crying my eyes out due to the pain and absolutely sure I was on the brink of failure. As I rode past beautiful Teton vistas, all I could see were my dreams and goals of the past year beginning to fall away from me. The pain I was experiencing was the most severe of my entire life, and I was starting to play out the scenario of quitting. I was heartbroken, and all I could do was weep. Then, I thought of all the people supporting me emotionally during this race: all of my family and friends and my beautiful wife, who had sacrificed so much to help me get to that point. The thought of letting all of those people down became even more unbearable than my pain. The truth is, the Tour Divide had become so important to me that it was worth the risk of permanent bodily injury. Period. End of story. No more crying. No more self pity. It was time to swallow hard and suffer through it, and suffer I did, until I reached a nice motel and restaurant near the base of Union Pass. I decided to call it a day after only 130 miles of riding to try to put my failing body back together. After a bowl of elk stew, a nice round of stretching, a soak in an ice filled bath tub and six hours of sleep, I was raring to go and felt like a new man!
The Great Divide Basin is one seriously intense place, and I knew that heading into it. The Basin crossing basically entails a long stretch of barren, dry desert, devoid of any water or services between the towns of Atlantic City and Rawlins, which roughly equals about 140 miles. I started my basin assault from a teepee that is located in front of the town bar. Unfortunately, for the teepee's inhabitants that night, which included Markley Anderson, Cjell Money, and me, the bar let out after a loud and debaucherous juke box festival. As it turned out, they forgot to shut off the juke box, so it played random classic country songs all night long! The "crossing" was long and hard. The road was severely washboarded and the wind was absolutely relentless! A fun fact of the Basin is that we had to carry all of our water for the entire trip to Rawlins, which meant I had to make four liters last nearly fourteen hours! Needless to say, I was pretty wrecked by the time Markley and I reached Rawlins, but we were soon revived by massive meals and milkshakes at Penny's Diner.
The road out of Rawlins is no joke. It starts with casual rollers on a paved road that soon turns to a dirt road so packed down, it's hard to tell it apart from its paved cousin. Soon, however, a climb appears and then a series of rollers that are incredibly steep, which, in my case, pointed me directly into a brutal head wind. There is not much to look at in this part of Wyoming, just endless rollers covered in scrub, but there is a glimpse of hope in the form of distant mountains that hint at the Colorado state line, and the leaving behind of Wyoming, a state that is responsible for a huge percentage of the Tour Divide's attrition rate.
Wyoming was a diverse state comprised of soaring mountains and windy, burning plains. The people I met were wonderful and the hospitality I experienced was humbling. I was truly touched by the natural beauty, the broad expanses and, of course, the kindness of its inhabitants.
No comments:
Post a Comment