Our route for today is here.

Our cumulative route is here.

    “[Silence]”

                    The State of Wyoming on our ride from Pinedale to Rawlins

    The trip odometer flipped 95 miles as we rolled back onto pavement.  I realized that 95 mile stretch of gravel was the longest streak of non-pavement we have traversed in all of our riding. 

    And, let me tell you, if you think the United States is crowded, I have a section of Wyoming that I’d like to show you.

    We left Pinedale and rode southwest.  Soon we were on Bureau of Land Management roads, which were gravel. 

    The BLM, by the way, is a federal government agency that manages land owned by the government that all other agencies, like the National Parks or Forests, don’t want.  Many times it’s the land where oil or natural gas is mined, or cows are grazed, or both.

   

Surprisingly, or maybe not when oil is involved, these roads are some of the best roads to ride on because the upkeep is so good.  Except for the mild case of washboard-itis, the surface was practically smooth.  Many times we were able to sail along at 45-50 mph. 

    In the morning, the scenery was high plains with a backdrop of mountains with a trace of snow.

    Middle of the morning we approached approached Wyoming highway 28 and turned north for a few miles and then turned west and came to the little village of Atlantic City. 

   In all the planning for the trip we had found out about this stretch of trail, since it doesn’t have gas for the 232 miles it encompasses.  Our bikes have a range of about 230 miles, so we were trying to find a way to carry a bit of gas.  I knew that a gas can

would run about $8-10 and I really didn’t want to swallow that pill.  So, we walked down the aisles  of the grocery store and settled on a one gallon gatorade bottle for $5.  I drank as much as I could (then pee-ed for hours) and then poured the rest out.  Voila, we had an good gas container.  We filled it before we left Pinedale. 

    When we talked to the fellows a few days ago, they told us that there was a man selling gas in Atlantic City from his garage, but we didn’t want to chance his not being open, especially on a Sunday morning.

    We pulled into town and went to the restaurant, the only building with an open sign, and they told us that the man at the gun shop was our gasoline guy.  They gave us directions and we rode to the Gun Store where we were able to buy another gallon of gas, once we poured our extra gallon into our tanks. 

   

Riding down the road, we then embarked on our long stretch of nothingness.  It’s strange how you mind wanders and you get out in the middle of nothing.  You know there’s no danger, but as time drags on you start to realize how far out there you really are. 

    We cruised across the landscape as the mountains disappeared in our mirrors to the north, and we were left with only the pronghorns and sage grouse.

    At lunch time, we pulled into the driveway of a nice little house and sat on the porch for lunch, tuna and crackers, yum yum.

    Soon, we were back on U.S. 287 and our destination of Rawlins was in our sights. 

    See y’all down the trail.

    P.S.  We’re taking a day off tomorrow.  So, no updates until Tuesday.

                                                   July 20-21