One of my goals was to do a century on this trip.  The soul soup the day before must have lifted my spirits because I was thinking about attempting it.  I got up early and rode the 50 miles to Shoshoni by lunch time.  I grabbed lunch at a diner and then plotted.  I decided not to do the extra 50 and settled for 23 more to Ocean Lake in the Wind River Reservation.  Highway 26 would take me South to Riverton from Shoshoni and then back North.  County Road 134 cut straight across saving me maybe 40 miles.

After crossing the Boysen Reservoir, entering into Wind River country, and onto Road 134 everything turned green.  I was no longer in the desert, but a rich river valley.  The first thing I noticed was the floral aroma coming off of the vast fields of alfalfa.  The fields were maintained using irrigation canals that ran throughout, fed by the wind river reservoirs.

Not five miles from the lake and another storm hit.  I was watching the lightning from a distance for several miles, hoping I would turn North of it.  At the point of no return I pulled the bike off the road into some ladies yard and asked if I could hide out in her barn.  She was hesitant at first, but agreed.  Once the storm cleared, I thanked her and she told me there was a bar just a mile up the road I could stop at.  I had dinner there and then went to the lake to set up before the next storm hit.  It rained and blew for a couple of hours.  With a little daylight left I explored some and tested the water temperature.  There are not many mosquitos in the desert and this place made up for it.  They were gathered around my tent, just waiting for me to poke a finger out.   

It was a long day.  The wind was strong, again, and my pace suffered for it.  It was also much warmer than the past couple of weeks.  Halfway to Casper was Glenrock.  Glenrock was named after the rock in the glen, which is a large rock formation just outside of town.  I stopped there for lunch at a sign that said brick oven pizza.  Instead, I ordered a burrito.  Waiting for my burrito to come out I saw one of their pizzas and it really was a brick oven pizza and cooked properly, unlike other restaurants with that name… My waiter was a vegan and had the cook make me something special after my first burrito was covered in pork gravy.  

I don’t know how long I have been on the Oregon Trail, but I keep wondering if I am making better time than the settlers.  Hopefully they did not go through Nebraska otherwise they may have gotten lost and partially crazy.     

Once I finally got into Casper the road had a bike lane that turned into a bike trail that ran all through Casper.  My sleeping bag has not been as warm as it is supposed to be, so I hit all of the outdoor stores to get a new one.  All of there bags weighed nearly 5 lbs and packed down to the size of a microwave.  I had called ahead to the local bike shops to get some work done on the bike.  I stopped by both to look around to see if I needed anything, like new shoes.  My shoes had blown out a couple days before.

New shoes would be great, but what I really needed was lower gears to climb the mountains.  The gears I had were good, but I was still struggling up the steeper grade.  The second shop had what I needed.  They installed the new cassette, gave it a tune up and lubed everything.  They then told me about the Qdoba down the street.  That would be my second burrito for the day.  Afterwards, I stopped and got some glue to fix my shoes and then on to the campground.  I was going to camp in the dog park, but decided to pay and camp at a campground with bathrooms, showers, and laundry.  

It seems like I am always heading into storms.  Between Lost Springs and Douglas there was only one truckstop and rest area.  I found nothing I wanted to eat at the truckstop and lucked out at the rest area.  There were two old men sitting under a tent selling snacks.  Not just selling, but taking donations for snacks.  They wanted to give me so much, but I settled for a couple ziplocks of fruit and vegetables and homemade muffin.  As I sat there to eat, the rest area hostess came by and talked to me.  She told me all about what was happening with the eclipse and about where to stop along the way.  The eclipse is a big thing here.  Whe said she was expecting 10,000 people to be at her rest stop to watch it.  My plan was to be in Jackson, WY for the eclipse, but all campsites, hotels, and everything else is booked.  So now, I will try to be on some desolate road in Idaho.  She advised me to stay off of the interstate on my way to Casper (two days away) and stay on Highway 20.  She also said it would protect me from most of the wind!

I guess I was more tired than I had thought.  The rest of the way was slow.  I stopped a lot to look at the cacti and different rock formations.  Occasionally I would see a group of pronghorn.  Highway 20 was more out of the wind and the only traffic on it was from a cement factory.  The road itself was covered in cracks filled with rubber.  That kept my mind busy because each time I hit a crack my tires would be absorbed in the rubber and my pace slowed dramatically.  

As soon as I reached Douglas the rain started.  I hid out at a car wash for 10-15 minutes until it slowed enough to move on.  In town, there were more choices for food than I was used to.  I decided to splurge and went to Sapporo Japanese Steakhouse.  Everyone in there were Chinese.  From there I went to the railroad museum and talked to the caretaker.  She advised me to go to Riverside Park for the night, which had free camping and hot showers.

They also had a sign that read no camping on the grass, but due to the sprinkler system.  The sprinklers came on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 3 AM.  I scoured the park for somewhere to pitch the tent and found nothing.  I tried in the parking lot, but only bent one my stakes.  I then tried under a picnic table, but it was too short.  I then tried on top of the picnic table, but my tent was too wide.  I settled on hanging the hammock with the tarp over it.  At this point, the skies were clear and it was nice out.  Soon after, the wind picked up and the rain started.  I should mention, that I picked a spot not directly over or near a sprinkler.  The sprinkler would only hit my tarp.  When the storm came, I quickly got the tent out and set it up.  I was camping on the grass on a Wednesday and they could get over it.  I had still not acquired any more stakes and had was using some stakes for both the tent and the tarp.  It stormed, not just rained, until nearly 1 AM.  Then, at 3, the heard the sprinklers come on.  

That morning, I woke up at 6 and the rain had started again.  It rained until 3 pm and I stayed inside the tent the whole time.  I went through all of my peanut butter, snack bars, and tortillas.  All that was left was a jar of honey and some dry cereal.  I probably could have made it to Casper before nightfall, but decided to make a day of Douglas.  I went to the grocery store and loaded up on food and then to the laundry mat.  There I met a couple of guys that followed and crewed at music festivals.  They were living out of a small Toyota truck with a bed cover.  They were nomads, some might say hippies.  They did offer to get me stoned but I decided against it.  One of them said that they pick up a lot of extra gear after each festival and that they had camping gear they were sorting through.  When he mentioned the lot of stakes I offered to buy them off of him and he just gave them to me.  Now, I have almost too many stakes! They invited me to winter with them in California at a nomad camp called Slab City.  

After leaving them I had dinner and then met two more guys at the campground.  They were doing a summer tour of Canada and making a loop down to Colorado before heading back to the east coast.  I talked with Patrick for a long time and eventually followed him to look at an old Toyota mini motorhome he had spotted.  It measured no more than 16 foot and we just happened to catch the owner.  The owner opened up the camper and then showed us his shop and all of the toys he was working on.  Patrick would make for an excellent traveling buddy and I am sure if I met him in Arkansas he would have dropped everything to come with me.  

Oh, and my shoes are dead…

Only nine miles to the border and no more Nebraska!  There were more and more rock formations after crossing the border and I saw my first pronghorn of the trip.  I also started seeing more cacti, but no prickly pears.  I climbed up to one of the rock formations to see it covered in swallow nests.  

I stopped for lunch in Lusk and watched as all of the bikers from Sturgis came and went.  Many of them stopped to talk to me.  One of the locals came and sat at my table.  I was not sure if he was the local bum or the local preacher.  He had a lot to say and sat with me until I left.  From there I went to the grocery store and restored my food supply and then road on.  My goal was to get to Lost Springs, WY for the night.  

Ten miles from Lost Springs another storm hit.  This time the wind was blowing so hard I had to get off of the road.  Those same electric buildings that lined the Cowboy Trail were alongside the existing railroad here.  Unfortunately, it was still working and locked.  So, I hid behind it.  Eventually a rancher pulled up and asked me what I was doing and when I told him he and I both were hiding behind the box peeking out looking at the storm.  The storm was heading South so I decided to chance it.  Not 2 miles down the road was another box and hiding behind it were two motorcyclists.  Stacy and Jodi were coming from Sturgis and took a wrong turn back in Lusk.  They were from Chicago and lived in a tiny house so we had plenty in common.  We talked for nearly half an hour and by the time I left them the storm was gone and the sun setting.  

Lost Springs, WY has a population of four.  One of the four directed me to their park.  They had hot water, a pavilion, and the nicest grass I have ever seen.  It was so nice that they had a sign up saying no camping on the grass.  It was a good thing that I grabbed food from the store, but I am not buying anymore French baguettes.  It was too hard to eat.

I was slow to get around, sitting with Ken and Jan talking until nearly 11.  I saw a donut shop in town and Ken said he would go with me for breakfast.  It has been nice knowing that I would be able to stay with someone I knew every week or so.  Camping out can be somewhat stressful, being in a strange place with nothing but a piece of nylon between me and the rest of the world.  It is comforting when I am with other people and not having to guess at every car that shines their lights on me or every footstep that goes by.

Just outside of Chadron I ran into a small stretch of roadwork.  Right where the flagger stopped me, there was a small storage building sitting in the middle of a field with a sign with the words, “Local honey sold here”.  It was filled with local made crafts and of course honey!  It was $12 a jar, but I couldn’t resist.  The coolest part of the store was that it only had a money box and no attendant.  If I had not of stopped for the construction I probably would not have noticed it.

Not far after the store I started seeing more landmarks.  Large rock structures stuck out of the ground like something out of an old western movie.  After seeing corn for weeks and then sand hills for so long it was motivating to see a change in the landscape.

For lunch, I stopped in the town of Crawford.  I found a small park to rest, eat, and write some.  The park had an old caboose on show.  The attendant remarked that it was just like those tiny houses people are living in.  It had about twice the living space as my boat and I immediately thought about all that I could do with the space.  The attendant was full of advice for the days ahead.

That morning, Ken and I were looking at the map and the elevation change.  He used Google Earth to look at the roads and found a steep grade sign.  He told me that those signs indicate a steepness of between 6 and 10 percent.  I found the hill!  It was the first real hill I have climbed in a long time.  It was 3 to 4 miles long and took me to the top of a rise.  I wish I had a better photo.  Not sure if the view was as inspiring as I felt or if it had to do with me conquering it.  From the top, it was easy riding to Harrison.

With only five miles to go I could see it raining in the distance, right over Harrison.  Wolfgang told me about an A-frame restaurant just as you get into Harrison.  He said they had Mexican, Thai, and American food.  It was hard to believe that a town of just a couple hundred would have Thai food, but I was excited.  If the the restaurant was any further into town, I would have been drenched.  So, for dinner I had pad thai and a salsa!

The rain never stopped and it was getting cold.  There was a motel right next to the restaurant that I thought about staying in.  The only other option I saw on the map was the high school.  It faced the road and had no protection from the wind.  I rode around town looking for other options when I saw the sign for a park and RV.  The park was small, having only one parking spot and hookup, but perfect for me.  I set up camp for the night.  The wind blasted me all night.  I only brought six stakes for the tent and needed another four for the tarp.  I made a mental note to grab some tent stakes at the next big town.  

Yesterday I crossed over into Mountain Time, which makes me feel like I have made some progress.  Riding from Valentine to Cody was fairly slow.  I still had a moderate wind coming out of the Southeast.

Seven miles from Cody I spotted a sign for a winery just south of Nenzel.  I followed the signs and they wined me around into the back country for a couple of miles until I saw the vines.  I arrived there an hour before opening and there was a sign on the door that said, “In vineyard, call for tasting”.  I sat there, out of the wind, and worked on the latest blog post.  At 2:00, I gave the number a call and he said he would be right up.  About that time a couple of ladies pulled up as well.

We three sat down together while the Reed, the viticulturist, helped us to the tasting.  Just like the beers the day before, I tried everything they had.  I preffered the sweet whites, but would still rather have Gatorade or tea.  The ladies ordered several cases and said they stopped at all the wineries and beer rooms.  After they left, I stuck around a bit and talked with Reed.   I told him I planned to stay in Cody and he said that is where he is from.  He said there was a park with showers and that there would be a cookout there that night.  

After sitting for so long, the ride to Cody was an easy one.  I stopped at the Husker Hub for dinner because 3 people had told me about it by now.  Not much on the menu for me, so I had fried cauliflower and mushrooms again.  I have to stop eating that. 

At the park were some kids playing tag.  They all came up and said hi, without any reservations.  This was much different than the kids I watched in Columbus.  I set up the hammock on one side of the park and decided to take a nap.  After a while people starting showing up from everywhere.  I was wrapped up to keep the wind out and one curious little girl came up and poked me.  When I popped my head out she ran a ways and then called for her dad.  Later, the group hosting the cookout came over and invited me to join them.  I did and found Reed there.  Reed and I sat down and soon I got to meet the Superintendent who was also that little girl’s dad, the sheriff, the pastor, and a few others from the town.  

We stayed there till after dark watching the 30+ kids run around playing a game of capture the flag.  Reed and I were the last to leave and he invited me to stay on his couch.  On the way out of the park he spotted an article of clothing that he assumed was left by one of the kids.  It turned out to be the riding shorts I changed out of earlier.  They must have fallen off of my bike when I rode in.  Reed really made my day.

Earlier that day I sat at the crossroads at Nenzel debating whether I should check out the winery or ride on to Cody.  I sure am glad I took that road.  

According to my photo gallery, not much happened the last two days.  Wednesday, I woke up and did not want to move.  I just felt lazy, more so than usual.  Valentine was the next stop and it was 55 miles away.  The forecast said it would be cold with a high chance of rain.  

I got a late start and had only ridden 30 miles by noon.  I stopped in the tiny town of Wood Lake, population less than 100.  They had a quaint diner that had been closed for probably 20 years, a post office, old school, and a city park.  The park was very nice.  They must have set it up for the Cowboy Trail.  They even had a log book for visitors to write in.  Most of the cyclists commented on the cold water, since it had been so hot recently.  I had another PB&J sandwich for lunch.  I started to setup the hammock to relax and the wind started to pick up.  In the distance I could see storm clouds, but no rain.  I debated staying there and waiting out the storm.  Instead, I tried to beat it. 

I got about 5 miles down the road when it came a down pour.  I rode another 2 miles before I found a canopy.  I through the tarp up over a fallen tree to make a lean-to and hid there with the bike until the storm passed.  Only twenty more miles to Valentine.

There was a cold wind coming out of the North that did not help my progress.  With 5.5 miles to go I see a car pulled over to the side.  When I reach him, he waves me down and I ask if everything is alright.  George, was a fellow cyclist and just wanted to chat about my trip.  We swapped information and decided to meet up after he settled in to his hotel and I set up camp.  I remember it being 5.5 miles from Valentine because the bridge on the Cowboy Trail that everyone insisted I see was 4.5 miles from where I met George and from there it was 1 mile to the RV park I stayed in.  The bridge was an old railroad bridge built high over the Niabrara River. 

 George picked me up and we toured the bridge and then the town, which took about 10 minutes.  We chose one of the three restaurants in town and sat there talking about his trips and mine and about everything cycling.  It was nice to talk to someone that understands.  
That night it got cold and the wind howled all night.  The howling was probably a combination of the cattle at the sale lot and the wind.  The next morning I got up around 6:30 and it was in the mid 40’s and the wind was blowing 15-20 mph.  I decided right then that I was not moving from the tent.

I eventually moved.  I washed my clothes and took a shower and then when it got warmer I explored the town.  After buying groceries for the next few days I ran across a brewery, so I stopped in for a tasting.  I don’t like beer and I knew that going in.  When I came out of there, I still didn’t like beer.

I did a whole lot of nothing the rest of the day.