Odometer: 1277 – 1350 ( 72 miles, 117 kilometers)

The night at Little Sandstone Creek bridge was the coldest yet. I am guessing the temperature dropped to -5. For the first time I had to tighten the top of the sleeping bag over my head to retain heat.

There was cold dry frost on the both the inside and the outside of my tent fly. It flaked off like snow.

The water in my water bottles had partially frozen. I worry now about the plastic cracking if it gets too much colder.

Because of the cold the vapour pressure of the alcohol was not high enough for my flint to work. I tried again and again unsuccessfully to light the stove. I eventually lit it by using a wad of paper towel as a wick bringing the alcohol much closer to the sparks.

My Scandinavian companion had left on his bicycle a good 40 minutes before I finished my breakfast and packed up my tent. When I eventually started I was dressed as warmly as I had ever been. I even put on my woolen socks – which I was happy to put to use.

The day turned out well. It warmed up quickly and I was riding most of the day in my shorts and riding jersey – I had needed my sleeves and gloves for several days previously.

There was a gradual ascent to Columbine, Colorado (not to be confused with the place with the infamous mass murder) which was taxing but strangely easier than yesterday (day 20). I arrived at the general store in Columbine at about 2pm and bought coke, Gatorade, trail mix and an ice cream bar. I struck up a conversation with the proprietor who had just retired from the navy. Since purchasing the place – an old historic general store and adjoining cabins –  he had never worked so hard. Apparently at one time Columbine was a busy gold mining town and was deserted when the gold became easier and cheaper to find elsewhere.

After my short break in Columbine I took the quickest route to Steamboat bypassing the GDMBR tangents which (at this point) I had no patience for.

I arrived in Steamboat in good time (around 4pm) and had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant.

Steamboat is a tourist town. (As the ex-navy officer mentioned – it was named after a hot spring that made a noise like a steamboat. The hot spring has since become silent but the name has stuck.) I don’t get it really. There are more restaurants and hotels in Steamboat than there are people in some places I’ve gone through. There could be 50-100 hotels or motels.

By the time I finished my dinner it was getting dark and I began my search for accommodation. Guess what? I couldn’t find a place in the main town. A lady at one motel which did not have any vacancies was extremely helpful. She suggested a number of ideas, let me use her computer, and even offered to have me set my tent up on her lawn – if I would wait til 10pm.

Eventually I found a place on the mountain as they call it. It was one of many ski resorts on the “mountain”. The lady guided me to a bus which took me and my loaded bike up the mountain in the darkness for free for which I am grateful.

I am now in yet another hotel annoyed that in a town like this I couldn’t find something more appropriate.

Odometer: 1222 – 1277 ( 55 miles, 89 kilometers )

I took my time getting going and paid the price. I slept in, took my time having breakfast and visited the pharmacy at Walmart.  It was around 10am before I got on the road.

I figured I’d take my time because I had done a big day yesterday (Day 19) and today was only 52 miles.  How hard could it be?

When I got started I took what I thought was the most obvious road to the intersection on the GPS where I needed to join  the GDMBR.   This led very quickly to the four lane interstate which started to make me nervous. I continued however; there was a generous shoulder and another way would have meant retracing my route.

Eventually I came to where the road I needed to take crossed the interstate. Wouldn’t you know it?…there were no ramps. Not only were there no ramps, but barbed wire fences prevented access. I thought for few moments and then did the most expeditious thing. I lifted my bike and panniers over the barbwire, squeezed between the fence and the guardrail and worked my way down the steep embankment to the road below.

And that was the start of the day….

The road out of Rawlins was a steep climb to the south.   It took several hours to complete a fraction of the distance I had covered in an hour the day before.  The day continued with steep ascents and some descents all with a strong cross wind.

Eventually as McCoy had described the dry arid landscape gave way to the aspen forests of the Sierra Madre.   It was like pulling away a veil. Within a few miles it was if you had arrived in another place entirely.  Although the terrain was similarly hilly the valleys were adorned with streams filled with water.   Some how it made the struggle easier and allowed me to forget how slow the progress was.

Any thought I had of doubling McCoy’s distance for the day had long vanished and I had resigned myself to primitive camping just past Little Sandstone Creek.

I arrived at the destination and had set up my tent when a fellow long distance biker from Scandinavia (someplace) came along to share the camp area. I had passed him several miles back struggling to get water from one of the streams.  I told him what I knew, that there was no outhouse as McCoy had described, and the area by the bridge looked promising.

We settled in our separate spots, made supper and retreated to our tents quickly before the sun set.

Odometer: 1100 – 1222 ( 122 miles, 196 kilometers )

I woke up at about 5:45am to find frost on my tent and frozen water in my water bottles. I am now worried that my filter, which should not be frozen, may not function as it should.   Now I won’t be able to trust the filter alone and will be forced to use water treatment capsules.

The friendly doctors were already up with a fire going. They greeted me and shared some freshly made hot chocolate and some hot water for my oatmeal.   This was a big help because it meant that I did not have to fill and start my stove.

After I had my porridge I packed up all my things and set off.

The road follows the Great Divide and is as remote and desolate as I could imagine.   It leaves an impression that the country is largely unused. One vehicle passes every two or three hours.

The landscape is flat and dry as far as the eye can see. This is up to the distant mountains on each side of the “basin” and to the horizon along it’s length.   The vegetation is dominated by sagebrush. I am still not sure whether the cattle eat this or not.   The bushes are interspersed with grasses and dusty dirt.

Cattle dung is visible every 2 feet or so in various stages of decomposition; some I would guess are many months old.  The doctors, who have a cooking fire every night, had tried to use the dung to burn but they discovered that it smelled very bad.

The day was good again. It was sunny, without much if any cloud, and cool with a very strong westerly wind which I took advantage of.   The only disadvantage was the severe effect of the cross wind whenever the route turned south. Several times the wind pushed my front tire where I did not want it to go.

Wild life was evident again today. Pronghorns and wild horses this time. The horses were just as elusive as the pronghorns and did not allow me to get close enough for a good picture.

McCoy’s day ended at a reservoir  68 miles from Sweetwater. I arrived at the reservoir at about 3 pm and debated about continuing to Rawlins another 56 miles. After having a bit of food and refilling my water bottles I decided to take advantage of the strong westerly winds (which may not come along every day) and continue to Rawlins.   I estimated I would arrive in Rawlins between 7 and 9:30 pm which required lights.

I arrived in Rawlins at 7:30pm tired and shaky from the long ride. I had two hamburgers – one was not enough – and settled into the Holiday Inn Express. I had to do laundry and catch up on the blog while I had the benefit of electric light.

Odometer: 1005 – 1100 (95 miles, 152 kilometers )

Had a good day cycling.   I followed a dirt road east just out of the town.   The day was similar to September 6 – sunny and cool with favorable winds.

There were no significant ascents or descents but frequent hills and curves. I still made good time and was satisfied with my progress.

The dirt road followed through open ranges without any fencing. Cattle, pronghorn, and coyotes shared the freedom of the open space including the road.

I saw pronghorn frequently.   I never tire of watching them. Their speed is amazing – fast….then…extremely fast. They always seem to have another gear.   I wish I could take a good picture of them but they are very elusive. They seem to take off well before I get close enough on my bike. Perhaps a telephoto lens may come in handy.

Then there were coyotes. I saw two of them running across the road. They seemed fast too but not far off were a group of pronghorns which seemed not in the least concerned. Coyotes, as fast as they are can’t come close to the speed of the pronghorns.

Then there were cattle, sparse.. thinly scattered. Sometimes none could be seen as far as you could see. Other times clumps here and there.   They were not elusive and often stood in the road looking at me with limited understanding as I approached on my bike. Sometimes they would wait until I was 20 feet away before moving, startled.  Then they never seemed to move in the right direction. Dumb things.

At the end of the day I found the primitive camp site at Sweetwater Creek Bridge just as McCoy had described it.     I met up with three doctors who were sharing the camp area. They were from Oxford taking time off to have some adventures. One of them had the next two years of travels planned; including biking through the Himalayas, crewing a yacht on the Atlantic, and racing the GDMBR which he was scoping out.

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Odometer: 926 – 1005 ( 79 miles, 127 kilometers )
As it turns out Jackson is off the GDMBR by about 30 miles to the west. I decided to get back on track by following the highways south to Pinedale rather than retrace my route north to Jackson Lake.

I left Jackson after breakfast and traveled south along the highway beside the Snake River. Jackson has invested heavily in bike paths throughout the city. The bike paths running beside the highway were of top quality, smooth and well maintained.

The day was cool and sunny; excellent for biking.

West of the Snake River valley  a string of mountains are outstanding visually. To the east the hills are not so majestic. They are much closer to Jackson and are a source of recreation in the summer for cyclists and in the winter for skiing.

I followed the highway south along the east side of the Snake River until the Hoback River entered flowing from the east.  At that point another I took another highway running east on the north side of the Hoback River up into the hills.

The day was beautiful aside from the highway travel. I didn’t mind. The winds were favorable, the hills weren’t too bad and I made good time.

I stayed in Pinedale, a small town with not great but adequate services.   By McCoy’s account it is a cowboy town but I didn’t see any cowboys. I had supper at Subway and stayed in a nearby hotel.

Morning in Jackson Hole.