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Archive for June, 2011

Lander, WY to Dubois, WY

Friendly horn taps: 2

Rude horn honks: 1

Miles: 78

Total so far: 3,274

Wind River cliffs

It’s been awhile since I’ve “worked the road” as a state trooper.  I know I’ve experienced weather induced trauma, but we all have that.  Certainly anyone who’s run for his life at the sssssshhhhhh sound of a semi truck going sideways on the ice can’t really come away from the experience unfazed.  It’s like finding your self  in a dinosaur nightmare, and the behemoths are out to get you.  I’ve suffered frost bite, and I’ve lost my way in ground blizzards (by that I mean out on foot where I can’t find my car with all the lights running).  I don’t do any of that anymore, I’ve been retired for over five years.

Today, I put on a show for Sallie’s birthday.  We are riding along in the afternoon struggling with some storm cell generated winds.  The storms are coming across at us from the west as we head north-west in the Wind River Indian Reservation. There’s a large combined cell behind us that we are pretty clear of after some hard work, it’s sliding south, but there’s one coming across in front of us and I can see sunshine on the other side, so if it hits us maybe we can ride through it.

Soon the rain starts and it’s coming down suddenly and with a fury stoked by strong winds, but the sun is starting to shine on us, so I get the feeling we may make it through.  That’s when I look up ahead and there is a large semi coming south and he’s churning up a serious amount of spray on the road, and I think to myself, that’s pretty wet, and that’s when the klaxon horns started going off in my head.

AOOGAAH!  AOOGAAH! GET OFF THE ROAD!  THE STORM IS TOO STRONG, SHELTER! SHELTER! YOU ARE GETTING WET, THE WIND IS BLOWING! WIND AND WET! DANGER! DANGER! TEMPERATURE MAY DROP, WIND AND WET AND COLD – DANGER! DANGER! SHELTER – MAN’S FIRST NEED GET SHELTER – GET YOUR RAIN JACKET ON NOW! SHELTER BEHIND THAT SIGN!

I found a road entrance to my right and there is this sign near the right-of-way fence that’s about 3 feet by 4 feet, and it’s maybe 6 feet off the ground.  It’s over to one side of a cattle guard, and I head for it, thinking I have to get my rain jacket out of my left front pannier.  The wind is really huffing now and I stop the bike.  The wind is trying to blow the bike over and my cleat is caught in the pedal and I can’t clip out on the left side, I’m going down!

AOOGAAH! AOOGAH! YOU’VE FALLEN ON THE PAVEMENT! YOU’VE CUT YOUR LEG ON THE CHAINRING! DANGER! DANGER! GREASY CUT ON THE LEG! INFECTION DANGER! SHELTER! SHELTER! FORGET THE LEG! GET YOUR JACKET! -MAN’S FIRST NEED – SHELTER!  YOU CAN’T PUT THE JACKET ON OVER THE CAMELBAK! DISCARD THE CAMELBACK! GET BEHIND THE SIGN! ZIP UP THE JACKET! RAISE THE BIKE BACK ON THE STAND! GET BEHIND THE SIGN YOU ARE VERY WET! DANGER! DANGER!   THE BIKE HAS FALLEN AGAIN! THE WIND IS TOO STRONG! THE CONTENTS OF YOUR HANDLEBAR BAG ARE THREATENING TO SPILL INTO THE CATTLE GUARD! DANGER! YOU’LL NEED A CRANE TO GET THOSE THINGS!

(Meanwhile, Sallie is standing by the roadside, having to hold her foot on her bike stand to keep the wind from blowing her bike over, but she’s perfectly fine, and most importantly, hardly even wet from the rain.)

After some time of gathering up my belongings, cleaning my leg up, and getting the crud  that blew across the pavement when the bike was down off the brake surface of one wheel, we ride off.

And the storm cell passes, the wind dies, and I declare that all my struggle was much to do about nothing.  Sallie agrees.  A mile down the road, I realize I left my Camelbak too.

Either I worked one to many storms, or I’m touching base with the last threads of my sanity as we push ourselves beyond reasonable limits on this ride across the country.

Maybe it’s the former as well as the latter.

Perhaps I jinxed us by taking this rare picture of a windless Wyoming flag today at a rest area

A small one coming over the mountains at us

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Harriet Phillips and Frank Colavita

Harriet Phillips and Frank Colavita

Harriet Phillips and Frank Colavita, were a sensational couple. Not only were they loving, generous, caring, involved parents but they were an inspiration to all those around them. They loved to go dancing, sailing, and were always drawing friends together for outings to festivals, concerts, art openings, or great dining adventures.  Harriet was an artist. Her prolific collection may be viewed at: www.zhibit.org/harrietphillips. Frank was a recently retired psychology professor at the University of Pittsburgh. They both loved their craft and had a passion for teaching it to others. Frank was a nationally ranked runner, having placed first in his age category in the Florida State Championships in 2008, qualifying for a prestigious spot in the Senior Olympics in summer of 2009. They were taken in the prime of their lives by a drunk driver, on February 13, 2009.

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Mosquito run

Jeffrey City, WY to Lander, WY

Miles: 60

Miles so far: 3,196

These three took off only to be chased back - note the dark skies

Waking up this morning to the sound of thunder is an unusual experience.  Thunderstorms are rare in this part of the country so early in the morning without the sun to power them.  That’s not all that’s unusual in Jeffrey City, Wyoming.

This is a stop that worried me.  The only open business I knew of was the Split Rock Bar and Cafe, and for years, the touring blogs have ranked this about as low as you can get.  There are no showers, there is no place to stay (since the only hotel closed), and reportedly the owner of the bar and restaurant was openly hostile to cyclists.  However, we started getting word on the road from other cyclists that there was a change in ownership at the cafe, cyclists were welcome, and a potter set up a business across the street and was allowing cyclists to stay in a trailer and shed on his property.  Bonus!

Proof!

Jeffrey City is positioned roughly half-way between Lander and Rawlins, with no other stops available, so it is vital to cyclists on the Trans-Am.   The town is an extreme example of a boom/bust economy that is experiencing a current and sustained decline.  Jeffrey City used to be a uranium mining town, once thriving, but political and market forces have caused a long-term bust for this Fremont County township.

Upon our arrival, we met up with three cyclists from England and one American that preceded our arrival.  The six of us set up  “shop” in the cafe/bar where the large bathroom was used for “sink showers” and cleaning up, the internet was available through a Wi-Fi connection, and the food was plentiful and quite good.

Setting up our own section

Sallie: "I didn't know pancakes came that big."

The artistry of the potter - monkart.net; Monkingbird Pottery on Facebook

We had to shelter to wait out the morning storms,but once we started out the winds were fair and we got into Lander without any more trouble from the weather — in fact the winds were very much subdued all day, which is always a bonus in this part of the country.  However, areas near the Sweetwater River were so heavy with mosquitoes, if we didn’t have spray, we’d not have survived.  They would have packed us away, 75 pound bikes and all!

The Wind River mountain range is in the distance as we begin the descent of Beaver Rim

These startling colors are found in the cliffs entering the Lander Valley

Upon reaching Lander, we set up behind the Holiday Lodge, where they host a special for cyclists.  We camped on their property behind the hotel, right on the river.  This provides access to showers, laundry and a Jacuzzi.  $10 a person – that’s pretty reasonable by Trans-Am standards.  Aaaah…the bonuses of homeless vagabonds!

Home for the evening

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to John Douglas Greenwalt

Doug Greenwalt

On May 13, 1999, John Douglas Greenwalt of Cheyenne, Wyoming was killed by a drunk driver in a two vehicle collision.  Doug was 20 years old.

Not a day goes by without some reminder of how Doug touched our lives.  He was a special, talented, and kind person.  The memories make you smile when you think you cannot.

Doug’s Family and Friends


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Rawlins, WY to Jeffery City, WY

Friendly horn taps: 6

Rude horn honks: 1

Continental Divide crossings: 2

Total Divide crossings: 4

Miles: 69

Total so far: 3,136

The sky today near Lamont, Wyoming

For obvious reasons, we don’t see much television.  That’s not unusual for either one of us in our normal lives, so we are not missing anything.  The other day, I saw part of a news broadcast, possibly a Denver station, wherein they showed a video of a fly ball going into the stands at a stadium and waiting to catch the ball just as it bounced off a railing was a young girl of about nine years old.  The ball came right to her and just as she was about to get it, a woman (maybe in her forties) snatched the ball from the little girl’s hands, turned to her friends and they began a series of high five celebrations while the dejected little girl did an about face and went up the stairs out of the camera shot.

I thought about that today as we left Rawlins.  I took Carlie to a Denver Rockies game when she was about three years old.  We got there early and while in our seats during batting practice, a ball was hit into the stands behind us.  Somehow we didn’t notice, and the ball ricocheted around a bit and rolled under our seats and parked itself behind Carlie’s leg.  Ball recovered, I thought that was a treat.

The Rockies had a mascot named Dinger , a big dinosaur looking creature, that was not unlike the appearance of one of Carlie’s favorites, Barney the purple dinosaur.

Dinger came out on the field and began circling the wall below the stands towing a wagon.  I carried Carlie down to the wall as he approached, and the kids at the ball park were swarming in front of Dinger, as he was throwing T-shirts and other items up in the stands.  By the time Dinger  got to us, it’s wagon was nearly empty.  The mascot looked in Carlie’s direction, looked into the wagon and took something out with his hands cupped and reached up to Carlie.  Dinger gave her a baseball, signed by the entire team.

The last few days have been emotional.  In our state of constantly challenging the limits of our abilities, there is a fine line between what is manageable and what tips the scales into overload.

When Sallie and I left the cemetery this morning, I said, “Let’s go see Montana.”  It was my way of saying it’s time to move forward.

I agonize over Carlie’s death every day.  I am not immune from that by any means.  I prefer however to think of baseballs and this little child that charmed a dinosaur.

Rock formations near Split Rock, WY

A view of the Great Divide Basin as we came off Rendle Hill.

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Johnathon Ferguson

Johnathon Ferguson

In Loving Memory of Johnathon Ferguson a life lost by a drunk driver.
October 21, 1985 – October 2, 2005. Forever in our hearts!

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Saratoga, WY to Rawlins, WY

Friendly horn taps: 3

Miles: 51

Miles so far: 3,067

Yes, they do place these every five miles on I-80

I feel better now that I’ve showered. It’s been a rough day in many ways, some bittersweet, some just plain rough. The day started fine with a break in the weather, the forecast of blue skies and warmer temperatures was welcome, but there would be west wind going into Rawlins. This would double up the challenge as there is a thirteen mile stretch ahead of us on Interstate 80, dead into the wind – it’s the only way to get there from here.

Carlie is buried in Rawlins. We had been in Rawlins for the preceding three years. At the time of the crash, she was in kindergarten at the Rawlins Elementary School. I was a division supervisor with the highway patrol. Through the years as I thought of this trip, I knew the Trans-Am went through Rawlins, in fact, the riders go right by the cemetery.

I thought for a very long time that if I ever did this ride, I would pitch my tent by her grave. This is something not everyone can understand. I’m aware of that. Bereaved parents have such ideas – remember, we live in a “new normal” that is anything but normal.

I placed a request with the chief of police of the Rawlins Police Department five days ago and I called him again this morning, and finally got to speak with him. He denied my request. This was quite an unexpected blow. Trans Am riders are hosted by towns all across the country with invitations to stay in their city parks, and I had not anticipated being denied, particularly since this man knows me quite well and knows why I made this unusual request. I guess it was particularly tough because that phone call was placed first thing in the morning, and that did not contribute to a pleasant start to the day. As in all things, we’ll adapt to this and move forward.

Nonetheless, we started out and Sallie was struggling. She’s not been feeling well. The ride has us pushing ourselves physically right to the limits and we’ve both noticed that it’s quite easy to have added stress push us overthe red-line. We resolved to a slow ride that was not going to be very long, but would prove difficult – particularly pushing a head wind on Interstate 80.

On the positive side, I received word today that Ray LaHood, the U.S. Secretary of Transportation has recognized our efforts in this cross country bicycle attempt in his US DOT blog, Fastlane. This is quite an unexpected honor, and I continue to be surprised and humbled by the attention and support we are receiving.

We checked into a campground upon arriving in Rawlins. The young lady behind the desk asked me if I’d stayed there before as she said, “I looked very familiar.” I explained that I lived here several years ago and then mentioned I was a state trooper. That seemed to ring a bell with her and ultimately, she had a moment of recognition. She told me she recognized me from the documentary that was done about my daughter’s crash. She started crying and tried to apologize. I told her she was extremely brave to bring it up, as many people might not be willing to mention it. The two of us shared a few tears. She’s one year older than Carlie would have been.

The following are images from today. There are no captions.

Sometimes words fail me…


Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Gene Bucklin

My dad, Gene Bucklin, was “the rock” of our family—unbreakable and solid. He always had your back. You could count on Dad to be there through thick and thin.

Gene

At 7 a.m. on a Saturday, Dad was killed by a drunk driver less than 10 miles from our home.

Sarah Bucklin, Casper, WY

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No mileage due to weather

A buck in "velvet" spends the day in a front yard of a home in Saratoga

When we came off the mountain this morning it was apparent we were not going to be able to ride. The weather was cold, rainy and windy, and was not going to improve much during the day, so we called off the ride. Anticipating better weather tomorrow, we’ll resume. The dedication for Eric Robbins continues tomorrow.

The North Platte River is at record flood stage and this town has the berms and sandbags to prove it’s readiness. Cold rainy weather is welcomed here, as that slows the melting of the snow pack in the mountains that feeds the river.

Holding the water back

There's still room to float a boat under the golf course bridge...maybe.

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