Day 16: 54 miles: 4419’ climbing: Rawlins to Little Sandstone Campground

Today was a big fat lie.  An easy day.  Only 54 miles.  Mostly pavement!  The weather folks said there would be a kicking tailwind there whole way.  Perfect!  I had thought last night, reflecting on the hard past two days and how a nice easy day would be just the thing.

Nope.  Like… a big hard nope.  Not even remotely a yep.  Imagine a grizzly bear, bull moose, and a pissed off badger all yelling “NOPE” at you… that’s what today was.

Why?  What could have gone so wrong?  Let me introduce you to a frienemy that I got to know intimately today:

Wind.  Headwind.  Cross wind.  No no… not the tailwind.  

I had taken my time this morning getting up and trying to dry everything.  Last night some killer storms had rolled through, soaking everything, whipping my tent all over, lighting illuminating the sky like it was a war of the gods.  I stayed dry in the tent (big props to Big Agnes) but appreciated the intense morning sun as it helped to dry my tent and non-removable bike bags.   Once everything was dry and loaded and I was dressed for the day, I rolled the 2 miles into the commercial area of Rawlins to the City Market grocery store and walked up and down every single aisle, except for the cleaning products because - dumb, trying to find mew things to eat.  I was tired of the same bars and pop tarts… I wanted real food.

Sitting in front of the grocery store I mauled yogurt, 2 donuts, a sweet tea, and one of those Naked Drinks cause fruit.  Then I packed up my groceries, started up my cycling computer gadgetry, and started rolling towards the route and south outta town around 9.

Rawlins is dumb.  Not the people, just the location.  I may be biased, but I do t like cities that have climbs out of them in every direction.  

Right away, BAM- headwind.  Double whammy- killer steep climb.  My legs and lungs don’t like starting this way.  How about a nice easy flat section to warm up on please?  Rawlins says NO… we want to get you super high RIGHT AWAY. GO!  Ooof.

And it seemed that the higher I went the stronger the wind blew.

This was not how my easy day was supposed to go.

My legs and butt were not happy about this.  2 GDMBR riders going NOBO seemed to be freaking enjoying themselves… lucky bastards with not a bead of sweat having been shed.  The 4 Continental Divide hikers I passed walking on the shoulder also seemed to be enjoying the cool wind blowing at the backs. 

While hear I am puffing like I’m climbing a mountain pass, spinning my legs as fast as possible, achieving amazing speeds of 8 mph WHILE GOING DOWN HILL, feeling each gust of wind seemingly move my bike backwards.  

I had to do a big recalibration of expectations and behaviors to sustain myself.  I had no choice but to make it to my camp as planned, as my exit strategy to get home was locked in time at this point.  I ignored my speed and just focused on doing whatever my legs could, knowing that forward progress would happen if I just kept going.

8 hours later, with an average speed of 6.68 mph according to my little Garmin guy, I finally pulled into the stand of aspens that make up camp.  Along the way I walked a bunch of hills that were too steep with the wind trying to push me back down.  I had sought refuge from the treeless barren landscape in the shade of a concrete pooper- where I did have a nice lunch.  And I applied sunscreen and lip balm about 4 thousand times, feeling the wind and sun suck all the moisture out of my body in an attempt to create a modern day cycling mummy wrapped in spandex.  I put in my headphones for the last few hours, trying to drown out the roar of the wind, and this kept my mind a bit less pissed off.  And I ate a whole tube of Starbursts!

Climbing consistently, because of the wind and because the land rose in front of me, the landscape finally changed about 10 miles from camp.  Climbing into the grassy, aspen dotted forests was such a mental relief, both in providing something visually different to feast my eyes on, and because the trees provided a break from the unrelenting wind.  This is also where the road turned to gravel, but it was fortunately in decent shape.  But still, with 19 miles and two decent climbs to tackle- I was toast.  Time to bust out the sour gummy bears, which kept me busy as I walked up the steeps and navigated the gravel, searching for the smoothest, least washboarded section to roll on.  

Enjoying the solitude at camp, I immediately stripped off my clothes to air out in the shade.  Oh how much raw butt cheeks enjoyed the cool air and light of day.  I then realized that the road was really just right there as two ATVs buzzed by.  I put clothes on.  Which is good, because not more than 2 minutes later there fellow GDMBR cyclists, looking very clean and fresh, rolled up!  If only they knew the carnage they had just missed seeing….  they rode on a bit to see if they could find a camp spot close to the nearby stream.

I set up camp, annoyed with the flies that seemed hell bent on burrowing into my ears, and prepped dinner in the shade of the aspens.  Smearing warmed pre-made ready-to-eat Mexican Peacadillo on everything bagels was satisfying.  I ate 3 halves, then one more with sweaty cheddar and pepperoni on it.  

Thinking about how this trip has unfolded, another thing I would change is where I camped.  On this trip I found myself defaulting on staying in or near towns quite often in the name of not wanting to carry and worry about food, especially without a “real stove”.  But last night while camped along the interstate at the KOA, eating at another American bar restaurant- I just wasn’t enjoying it.  This, here out in the world, prepping my own food, eating what I want because it sounds delicious in this famished moment… this is part of the story that I really do enjoy and want more of.  Next time… a real stove I will bring, as this will greatly increase my options for backcountry cooking.

After eating, writing for awhile, and cleaning up dinner stuff, I walked down to where the others had camped to chat and get water.  All three of them were over 65.  This was their first day of biking, hence the fresh look.  As they cooked dinner we lamented the day’s wind torture, swapped stories of biking and travel, and shared a bit about ourselves.  In the cool shade of the aspens, sitting in the middle of a dirt patch, just chatting and enjoying the company… was quite nice.  This didn’t happen at the KOA.

In the tent, readying for sleep, I am drained and mentally questioning tomorrow.  I have to get to Steamboat, which is 75 miles away if I take the shortcut through Columbine, and it cuts off a huge Mtn pass.  But now I’m worried about wind.  I wasn’t before today, but having been humbled today, my faith in being able to pull this one last day of riding off, with 3-day-dead legs, is shaken.

I will get up early, at 6 tomorrow, and hope for good conditions I guess.  Cheers to burning eyes and desiccated lips!