Spent most of the day today lost, turning an easy 45-miler into an all-day affair.
Woke up feeling hung over, perhaps from yesterday's ride but more likely from last night's overindulgence of fast food from the plentiful bounty of I-80 Exit 214. Went into Rawlins proper, which has a small downtown area. Was looking for a bike shop to get some air/tire insurance, but it was out of business.
From there I tried to get back across town a different way but was stymied, having to backtrack numerous times. It's a small town but it is bisected by the railroad and the interstate, with a big valley between the two. It's hard to imagine being lost in Rawlins but I pedaled around forever, backtracking numerous times over hills. Finally I got back to the eastern side of town where the obvious choice was I-80 east. However (!), I had cleverly found a Google Maps route that would take me the whole way without going on the interstate. I was feeling proud of myself because other bike journals say that a trip on I-80 is required.
I found a nice back road to the town of Sinclair, about five miles away. The road was basically a service road for the Union Pacific railroad. An unmarked pickup truck with lots of antennae passed me slowly, the driver giving me a long look. I'm pretty sure it was the Pinkertons from the railroad. But he must have been satisfied, because he U-turned and drove the other way.
Sinclair is home to the big oil refinery you pass by if driving along I-80. The refinery is even more enormous from up close. The myriad of pipes and tanks and stacks belching steam was otherworldly. I took lots of pictures and moved down the road to a different vantage point. A policeman pulled up and rolled down the window. He said hello and was very friendly, just shooting the breeze. But I'm coming to realize that they keep a watchful eye on the place.
The Google Maps route, if I remembered correctly, took me along the railroad tracks on the other side of the valley from I-80. I found the road, which was gravel and dirt and headed out in a straight line toward some faraway mountains. Eventually it was supposed to intersect with another road but it looked pretty forlorn. Anything was better than I-80, I thought. I turned onto the road, which was sand and gravel and deep ruts. I pedaled ahead, a pit in my stomach as I was obviously going far away from civilization. About 40 minutes later, the road was closed by barbed wire at some old rusty propane tanks. Beyond that it looked like Jeep territory. With a mixed sense of despair and relief, I turned around and headed back to the refinery. Luckily neither the police nor the Pinkertons saw me. Three hours and I'd made it five miles from Rawlins.
I turned onto the dreaded I-80. It was actually not as bad as I thought. The shoulder was huge and smooth, and people don't drive any faster than they do on any other Wyoming highway. After about 15 miles I got to the next exit, stopped at a weatherbeaten gas station for insurance water, and headed down another 20 miles to Saratoga.
There are free public hot springs in Saratoga that are very nice. The town has built nice pools, but I saw some young folks hanging out in the river which is also hot. I joined them and learned that they were from Fort Collins, and were on a hot springs tour. The sun was setting and a duck quacked at us from the other side of the river as we soaked in sulphur water. It was great. Tomorrow morning I will have to do another soak before heading to Walden.
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Woke up feeling hung over, perhaps from yesterday's ride but more likely from last night's overindulgence of fast food from the plentiful bounty of I-80 Exit 214. Went into Rawlins proper, which has a small downtown area. Was looking for a bike shop to get some air/tire insurance, but it was out of business.
From there I tried to get back across town a different way but was stymied, having to backtrack numerous times. It's a small town but it is bisected by the railroad and the interstate, with a big valley between the two. It's hard to imagine being lost in Rawlins but I pedaled around forever, backtracking numerous times over hills. Finally I got back to the eastern side of town where the obvious choice was I-80 east. However (!), I had cleverly found a Google Maps route that would take me the whole way without going on the interstate. I was feeling proud of myself because other bike journals say that a trip on I-80 is required.
I found a nice back road to the town of Sinclair, about five miles away. The road was basically a service road for the Union Pacific railroad. An unmarked pickup truck with lots of antennae passed me slowly, the driver giving me a long look. I'm pretty sure it was the Pinkertons from the railroad. But he must have been satisfied, because he U-turned and drove the other way.
Sinclair is home to the big oil refinery you pass by if driving along I-80. The refinery is even more enormous from up close. The myriad of pipes and tanks and stacks belching steam was otherworldly. I took lots of pictures and moved down the road to a different vantage point. A policeman pulled up and rolled down the window. He said hello and was very friendly, just shooting the breeze. But I'm coming to realize that they keep a watchful eye on the place.
The Google Maps route, if I remembered correctly, took me along the railroad tracks on the other side of the valley from I-80. I found the road, which was gravel and dirt and headed out in a straight line toward some faraway mountains. Eventually it was supposed to intersect with another road but it looked pretty forlorn. Anything was better than I-80, I thought. I turned onto the road, which was sand and gravel and deep ruts. I pedaled ahead, a pit in my stomach as I was obviously going far away from civilization. About 40 minutes later, the road was closed by barbed wire at some old rusty propane tanks. Beyond that it looked like Jeep territory. With a mixed sense of despair and relief, I turned around and headed back to the refinery. Luckily neither the police nor the Pinkertons saw me. Three hours and I'd made it five miles from Rawlins.
I turned onto the dreaded I-80. It was actually not as bad as I thought. The shoulder was huge and smooth, and people don't drive any faster than they do on any other Wyoming highway. After about 15 miles I got to the next exit, stopped at a weatherbeaten gas station for insurance water, and headed down another 20 miles to Saratoga.
There are free public hot springs in Saratoga that are very nice. The town has built nice pools, but I saw some young folks hanging out in the river which is also hot. I joined them and learned that they were from Fort Collins, and were on a hot springs tour. The sun was setting and a duck quacked at us from the other side of the river as we soaked in sulphur water. It was great. Tomorrow morning I will have to do another soak before heading to Walden.
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Waiting for the train
Wild, I tell you.
Main road past the refinery
Anybody know a plumber?
Miles of pipes
Atlas Shrugged
End of the line. An hour and a half down the tubes.
Gave in and took the big road. It wasn't so bad, although I wouldn't recommend it either.
Camp at Saratoga Lake. Already looking forward to a shower and a soak at the hot springs tomorrow. Supposed to be chilly but I will be cosy!
