Wind and the Pillows

Day 28

Jeffrey City, WY to Rawlins, WY

Distance: 68 miles

Top speed (slowest yet): 26.5 mph

New position in life: Princess of the Branded World

Another day of a relentless and powerful sidewind, and I am even more grateful that I didn’t attempt the Lander to Rawlins stretch in one day.

After getting back to my motel in Jeffrey City last night around 8.15pm, with no TV or wifi, and nothing to read, I decided simply to go to sleep, and had a peaceful night’s rest in the quietest place I’ve stayed so far. Lisa, who took over this motel after it had been closed for over six years, and started to refurbish the rooms one by one, has done a fantastic job. The rooms are no frills but they are spotlessly clean, the towels and sheets smell fresh and fragrant, the shower is powerful and the A/C works. It’s everything you need really.

The Split Rock Bar & Restaurant just down the street is similarly minded. Friendly and welcoming, the ladies there made me feel well looked after. I had a great Rattlesnake burger with fries and salad last night and washed it down with a couple of beers.

I also bumped into another cyclist called Roy, and we sat together to eat dinner. Roy is one of those hard-core tourers, who camps by the side of the road and carries everything with him so that he would be equipped for Armageddon, regardless of who or what was around. I take my hat off to him. I couldn’t do it. But, as he said, it is not for anyone to tell another touring cyclist how to tour, and I agreed with that.  We are all different – I prefer to travel light. At the end of the day, I love to be on the open road on my bike, but I don’t like to camp, and quite frankly I’m a princess who likes to have somewhere to plug in her hair straighteners of an evening. But I wouldn’t dream of imposing my views on anyone else.

In any event, we ended up chatting about Roy’s recommendations for bike shops and campgrounds, and his warnings that I should not under any circumstances stay at the campground in North Saratoga, CO because I would “lose ten pints of blood overnight to the mosquitoes”.  Nuff said.

When I arrived at the Split Rock this morning, Roy had been up before the lark and already eaten breakfast.  Seeing the size of the piece of left-over pancake he had packed in a bag as a take-out, I was about to suggest that if he had ordered it the night before, he probably could have slept under it, but I thought better of it and instead wished him well on the road, settling down for a leisurely and fantastic breakfast of eggs, bacon and hash browns, cooked by a lovely lady called Vikki, who is also a talented photographer.

The ride itself was beautiful and sunny… 

... but ridiculoulsly windy.

As before, I plodded along, invoking the Eastern philosophy whenever possible, and was overjoyed when, around eight miles out from Rawlins, the wind finally turned and started to push me home.

It was a couple of miles after that I saw an SUV by the side of the road with bikes on the top, and two sets of arms waving at me as I went past. Screeching to a halt, I stopped and had a chat with Colin and Michelle, a lovely couple who wanted to offer me water and fruit to see me on my way.  From South Dakota, they are touring cross-country too but in their SUV and cycling whenever they get the chance. Yet again, I was blown away by the kindness of the people that I meet as I make my way along this journey. It actually brings a tear to my eye when these things happen.

And so I was full of smiles when I eventually arrived, windswept and dusty at the Hampton Inn in Rawlins. Among the list of usual suspects on the outskirts of town (McD, BK. KFC to name but a few), but supremely comfortable and corporate, with it choice of comfy, fluffy pillows to meet all tastes, and my guilty pleasure for not only tonight but tomorrow as I have a rest day here.

I did intend to walk into town for dinner but the complications of trying to find the sidewalk, combined with the dust storms blowing down the street when I stepped out, persuaded me that a KFC meal washed down with a bottle of Fat Bastard Shiraz from the gas station might be a better option. 

Oh what a branded and corporate world it is…

And so I leave you with the news tonight that, despite scrubbing myself all over with a newly acquired loofa, my legs and shoulders are still sticking to the bed sheets. Dr King has prescribed a bath filled with cider vinegar to remedy the problem. As she says, I might smell like a pickle but... well, what can I say, I’m used to being pickled.

Me x