Distance - 104.3
The title pretty much explains it. Our last day in Wyoming was easily our most brutal day yet. "You wouldn't shut up about how flat and boring everything is, why was it so hard?" you ask. Well, after I eat this Whamburger and French Cries, I'll tell you. First, we had a headwind THE ENTIRE WAY. The road was mostly straight so there was little relief from the merciless attack of the southern wind blasting across the open plain. Even on the uphills, the wind hit us with rekindled wrath. Then there was the sideways variety of hail and rain. And I thought Montana had issues with us leaving. Wyoming reaches a new level of clingy. But more on that in a second.
We left the town of Rock River (town motto: We like both kinds of music: Country and Western!) as soon as we could, and pedaled into fierce wind toward Laramie. But before Laramie lies another town called Bosler, another community we expected to appear much like Medicine Bow and Rock River. However, that wasn't exactly the case. It appeared that whoever the residents were decided that Bosler should go with the classic "1939 Poland" motiff. There were certainly buildings, houses, and a store, but they all were abondoned and had fallen into disturbing states of disrepair. It's so interesting that all over the west there are ghost towns that serve as ATTs, and you can probably score a snow cone and a 55-gallon drum of cola in said towns. Bosler is a legitimate, 20th-century ghost town, where nothing exists except some completely rusted out cars and collapsing buildings. It was truly an eerie sight to behold.
Okay I'm over it. We headed into Laramie, home of the University of Wyoming, and ate lunch in a bright and sunny spot beside the Chamber of Commerce. We basked in the sunshine, and enjoyed the blue skies after a somewhat dreary morning. With newfound hope in the weather, we continued south out of town toward the Colorado Border. As soon as we got out of town however, the sky darkened and the wind exploded in our faces. Seriously. Pedaling as hard as we could, we could barely maintain 10 mph, a rather frustrating situation to find yourself in. After miles of this unbearable wind and continuing rise in elevation, we were feeling pretty beat. But Thundar, the Giant Stormcloud and Terror of South Wyoming kept us moving, in hopes we could beat him to the top of the ridge. Turns out, Thundar was only toying with us, for when hit the top, he began slamming us with hail and shooting lightning at the road only a few hundred yards ahead of us. Now, I heard this one time that lightning likes metal things that are out in the open. Since our bikes fit that description nicely we decided to hike off the road into a depression since it's my understanding that lightning can really ruin your day. After about ten minutes, things cleared enough to ride again, and we pressed on all the way to the state line!
Almost immediately, the weather improved and so did the road. (By that I mean it went downhill) and we rode the remaining 30 miles from the border to Fort Collins with little incident, besides a really sweet double rainbow situation. (Don't worry, the rain kept coming, just not as wickedly) We made it to our destination right before dinnertime, and we met with Aaron's family at his brother Joel's apartment. After the best hot showers ever, we were treated to a fantastic dinner at Cici's where we completely dominated the buffet line with the most ruthless frenzy ever displayed by a consumer since the Great Raven Incident of 2009.
So we stayed in Fort Collins on Monday night and given our quintuple set of centuries in the past five days, we chose to stay another night. This was of course great because we had time to wash clothes, bikes, and ourselves. Also, I procured a brand-new rear rim for my ride, that jank is PIMP! We hit the road todayfor a shorter ride to Wiggins, then on Friday we roll over to our first postal drop point at Otis! We extend a special thanks to Aaron's family for treating us to food and to Joel for letting us crash, it's awesome!! We'll catch up with you soon, keep on protesting ragers and don't stop raging protesters! Sam out!
The GRI2k9 hasn't got anything on the GSIc1k2 (Great Seagull Incident circa 1992). Lindsey and I were sitting on the beach and were naturally enjoying one of God's most blessed creations: a Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pie. All at once, dark shadow passed over us and while we were still innocently questioning the sky for its cause, a filthy bird-rat (aka seagull) swooped down upon Lindsey and stole the remainders of her Creme Pie from her tiny grasp. Talk about brutal.
ReplyDeleteAlso brutal are the tan lines you three have acquired...brutally rad!