catching up: august 3rd, 2023

it would have been so easy to keep lounging in pinedale. the town had everything: stores, hotels, a brewery, a bike shop, and a brewery.

there was also a brewery.

i woke up early. my bike was packed and ready to go. i had off-loaded more gear back to tofte and was eager to take on the great basin, that xeric geologic bowl between atlantic city and rawlins where rainfall doesn’t enter a watershed, it is just absorbed or evaporates.

gone.

before entering the basin, however, we had to make atlantic city, which was an 86-mile trek with a mostly “up” motif.

our group of four left when each was ready, pushing off for the long ride; scott first, me next, and the kids, allen and susan soon to follow. clouds were hanging low and while we feared rain, we rode without rain gear. temps were in the low 60’s and for a minnesotan, it was perfect.

a couple of miles out, i saw another bikepacker and it turned out to be scott, the rider who showed up at the strawberry creek shelter earlier in the week and was driven to his bivvy by an industrial snoring machine.

eventually, we all met at a divide intersection, conversed, snacked, hydrated, and headed to atlantic city.

the gravel roads were perfect, but as predicted, the winds picked up and the opaque skies revealed curtains of rain on the horizon in the direction we rode.

when it comes to riding with the group, i have previously told the sordid blog tale that i can’t. i am riding 2.6” tires and their “rolling” prowess pales in comparison to the 2.2’s on the salsa cutthroats being ridden by others.

what it means is that on pavement or smooth, hard pan gravel, i am the last at a destination, and that is completely okay.

it gives me more time to engage with the expansive and everlasting landscape and learn a bit about wyoming history, which is presented in historical society kiosks along the highway.

that history, like most from the 1800’s invokes manifest destiny with a trifecta of intent: pillage, plunder, profit.

as barren as the landscape is, it is also beautiful and mostly uninterrupted by development. it is, as they say, like taking a step back in time, until cows block your path.

after 8 hours of pedaling, i dropped like a stone on a greasy road surface into south pass city and then climbed up and past the carissa mine, a wyoming historical site that is basically as it was in the late 18- early -1900’s, except it no longer produces gold and is now focused on tourism.

it’s an interesting history, as presented by the kiosk, but the other part of that history is nowhere to be found. i guess we can just assume that white settlers were all that mattered.

after carissa, there were a couple more punchy climbs and one last descent into atlantic city, a town that time forgot, and for good reason.

i reconnected with the group and we stayed at the “miner’s delight inn”, a proud historical society site that looks like it was a set for a hitchcock movie. we paid for a couple of over-priced, shit-box cabins whose biggest feature was one’s ability to “turn up the heat on your own electric blanket”.

the “inn” included its own, rigid-spined version of norman bates, he being the “greeter” for its guests. my guess is that he is still plotting his escape, but has yet to finalize his plans.

get a bike, dude!!!

the inn did serve breakfast as part of the deal, but after a couple of bisquick pancakes and one cup of coffee, i was ready for my escape into the great basin.