Day 12: Thur 6/30: 76 mi: 3340’ climbing

Over Union Pass and down to Pinedale… should be an easy day.  We had camped right at the base of the climb at 8400’ and getting to the summit was only about 1300’ of climbing in 5 miles… so it would be nice to get that outta the way.  The climb was ok, steep in some places, but on good gravel.  Being an asthmatic from MN my lungs weren’t super stoked, but we got it done in the cool morning air.  Many parts of the forest, today and in the last 18 miles yesterday, were burnt and in a phase of regrowrh.  I remember this fire from years ago when we were out here and Union Pass was closed.

Reaching the top, the trees receded and the winds howled.  This wasn’t a short, up and over pass.  It was a wide open highlands full of snow patches, meltwater ponds, and wind whipped trees.  Absolutely beautiful.  I added layers to stay warm in the whipping air.

The descent was… well, not really a descent for the next 20 miles.  Dropping down into one high valley and climbing over to the next, I made slow progress being a tourist and taking all the pictures.  I stopped on a bridge to eat my leftover pizza, slightly angering the swallows that  had built nests underneath.  It was cool to see the northern end of the Winds again.  A few years ago I had backpacked with Karl and oregnant Darcy through that section.  There was a lot more snow now than then.

 Here is the closest the route came to Union Peak.

All of this was at over 9000’ in elevation.  And given the signs and marks left by humans I gathered this is quite the winter playground for snowmobiles.  It was pretty cool to find the Strawberry Safety Shelter out there.  Especially cool that the bathroom had TP!

At around mile 25 the actual descent began.  This is also where the gravel progressively turned to crap the further down I went.  For the next 15 miles it was constant crotch punches and white knuckled zig zagging, morphing into a cow-wrecked hot mess with the worst of it just before crossing the Green River.  With all the water from such a wet summer, anytime you stopped and the wind was not blowing hard you were immediately loved by hordes of mosquitos.  That descent was overall much more taxing than the ascent.  

Because it was supposed to be an easy descent, I had allowed myself to mentally ignore my rule of bike 50 min, rest and stretch for 10.  Having gone for a few hours straight and finally stopped on the bridge over the Green River on a small section of nibbled down grass that was contaminated with cow crap.  Eating the last of my Cheese-it’s, a NOBO rider rolled up and we chatted.  I expressed by frustration with the descent, and she promised it would get better very soon.  And then magically it’s as if the mosquitos discovered us.  Noticing the swarm gathering, smashing a dozen to death already sucker-deep into my legs, I quickly packed up, said goodbye, and tried to escape the swarm along a destroyed gravel road that reduced automobile traffic to about the same pace as my own.

A few miles after crossing the Green the route turned into a freshly chip sealed road that was gloriously calm and relaxing.  Minus the trucks flying by shooting tarred pebbles at your face, the miles passed quickly as the landscape opened up and the Winds receded behind.

Out in the open the winds really started to pick up, sometimes coming head on, other times pushing you gloriously, while randomly switching to a cross wind and forcibly nudging you to parts of the road that you don’t want to be in.  But this 35 miles on pavement was generally downhill and passed quickly.  By now the sun was instense and there was no water to be had as I sucked the last of my 3L bladder dry.  Rolling into Cora, I found a lonely post office that was built in the late 1800’s, and that was it. Thirsty, I walked in and asked the woman working if she had a place I could fill up on water with and her response was “You don’t wanna drink the water here.”  Sketchy.  But I appreciate her honesty.  

There happened to be one other person in the post office and overhearing our exchange offered some water from her van converted to camper.  I was great full.  Suddenly the last 10 miles to Pinedale didn’t look so bad.

In fact. It was super chill.  Turning more East, the winds pushed hard against my back along smooth gravel downhill right into town, allowing me to catch up with Brent for the first time today right as we intersected with the main amstreet of Pinedale.  Following the route to the city owned lot that bikers could camp at, with a gas station snack stop on the way, we rolled up to an unimpressive camp spot.  Luckily, Brent had talked to the same NOBO rider I had rarely and she had mentioned a newer lodging location in town called the Jackelope Motor Lodge, which had bunk rooms for cyclists and hikers.  Sold.  We rolled there and it is amazing.  Showers, shaded places to hang out, power to charger stuff, water… you know, what most people accept as basics, it was all there and we didn’t have to sell a kidney to afford it.

Showered, belly’s full from a meal at tue Wind Rivers Brewery, it was a chill evening.  Two other riders, who we had camped across from at Colter Bay, rolled in late and joined us.  Tomorrow would be a rest day, so there was not much to worry about as I drifted off to sleep.