TransAm Day #37 Saratoga, WY - Rawlins, WY
TransAm Day #37
July 1, 2018
Saratoga, WY - Rawlins, WY
44 Miles
Ride Time 4:15 Hours
Tour Total Miles 2671
I slept great last night at the St. Barnabas Episcopal Church Agape House in Saratoga. I got my very own queen sized bed, and was spared the frigid outdoor weather. Shawn shared my room and slept on the floor. He got up early and was gone by the time I awoke.
My body was so sore from battling the Wyoming wind. I laid in bed for an hour in the morning and published my previous day’s report. It was Sunday, and I could hear church-goers downstairs. I thanked them immensely for the accommodations.
Eileen, Scott, and I went to the J. W. Hugus restaurant for breakfast. Scott ordered two breakfasts, and we're worried that he's got a tape worm. I met a woman from the local Chamber of Commerce. I complained about the winds, and she told me that Wyoming’s weather was it’s population control. It sounds like winter here can be exceptionally severe and lonely.
I’ve met a lot of transplants from back east. Those I’ve met who grew up here are a bit self-deprecating about Wyoming. The transplants seem amped up about the ranching and big game hunting. I get a sense that a lot of east coast money backs these fantasy Wyoming lifestyles.
Wyoming is the least populous state. It’s area is almost double New York State, but it’s population is one fifth of Brooklyn. There isn’t much between the small towns here. I’m amused by all the mid-nineteen century history markers here in the west. My building in Brooklyn was built in the 1860’s, and has no landmark significance whatsoever in New York.
Leaving Saratoga there was a cross wind from the south west, just slightly at my back. I was able to use it to make twenty miles an hour. I passed two east-bounders who shouted across the road, ‘Enjoy the wind!’. I took this to be a good sign, but also worried about sarcasm.
I'm enamored with the mile-long snow fences, erected to prevent snow drifting onto the highways. There are gates on all the roads, highways, and interstates to close dangerous sections in winter.
I could see interstate 80 from eight miles away. I was well aware of the thirteen mile section I would have to travel on. I had gotten a text message from Steve the other day containing more profanities than I have ever seen. The east bound section was under construction and both directions of traffic were traveling on the westbound side. There was no room for cyclists, even on the shoulder. It was harrowing. Bike riding on interstates is legal in Wyoming.
The plan was to travel on the east-bound side. Today was Sunday and there would be no construction activity. We would have lousy surface conditions, but no seventy-five mile an hour motor traffic inches away from ourselves.
At the gas station just before the interstate, a motorist asked, ‘Y’all going west?’ I nodded yes, and he just shook his head. Every establishment I’ve been to in Wyoming has had dead stuffed animals on the walls. This includes grocery stores, bars, and gas stations. The Sinclair station at I-80 was no exception. There was a wind warning sign before the interstate. It was blowing more than forty miles an hour, and I was headed straight into it.
It wasn’t the first interstate I'd ridden my bike on, but it was my first time legally. I remember cycling with my dad on I-275 before it opened in the seventies. I-275, though, had a brand new surface and no wind.
The wind on I-80 was brutal. It howled in my ears and constantly threatened to blow me over. In the end, the plan was successful. At one point, I had to share a narrow shoulder with zooming traffic across a bridge over the Platte River. It was a brutal mind game. Another time I lost control of my bike in construction gravel. I fell over and re-skinned the same knee that I damaged yesterday. I need to get some knee pads.
After thirteen miles on the interstate, I exited at the town of Sinclair. I was familiar with Sinclair gasoline and have posed for pictures on top of their large green brontosauruses. I never realized that it was Wyoming based. I rode past enormous refineries. The town boasted the historic Parco hotel, and other handsome buildings from the town’s heyday. From there I rode the remaining seven miles to Rawlins, and the winds were brutal.
We found a Thai restaurant, and many customers were curious about our trip. A couple from Jackson, WY offered us a place to stay there. Tonight we're camping in the Rawlins city park.
Many readers ask me how I’m able to record so much detail about the tour. I dictate notes to my phone while I’m riding. Today, between the wind and my chapped lips, Siri couldn’t understand me. I’ll conclude today’s report with a partial transcript of her interpretations:
Read in for head off. Being who and paid off. I’ll profile no traffic after a miles. Who is this? Today in the ground. Sleep well my sweet friend. I need to serve your kneepads.
Yes three is Brown says this is the first interstate. Crosswind slightly out of it that I will take it. Works great and felt structures snowdrifts. Call me instructions for 10 miles more to the west of the road. Ellen and Win was being rude messages. This wife I have a feeling he was there from 7 miles out.
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