Adventures

Day 16 & 17, The Great Divide Basin

Great Basin, WY (29 June 2019)I saw myself bicycling over gravel, the sound of gravel being pressed and pushed aside by my wheels was vivid. Suddenly, just as the crest of a hill was near, a large rock knocked my front tire to the side and startled me awake from a dream! Thusly, my second day on the Great Basin began. Now awake, I began to wonder if Adam, Joseph and Max had just ridden past my tent, which would have appeared to them to be a small green lump among the much smaller lumps of sagebrush. My tent was pitched fifty yards from a gravel road which slices through a remote section Wyoming's Great Basin. Along the Continental Divide, rain and snow join flowing streams and rivers which head for either the Gulf of Mexico on one side of the divide or the Pacific ocean on the other. Here in the Great Basin precipitation either evaporates or is absorbed by the ground. It is a place so parched that even rain dies here.

Dawn breaks in the Great Basin about 36 miles from Atlantic City

Cozy in my tent, the song of a bird was heard, heralding another day of the toiling required to make a living in this dry and treeless landscape. Last evening it was a surprise to see so many small birds, rodents and even wild horses living here despite the paucity of water sources and vegetation, which consisted of nothing but small spiky grasses and sage brush. Less surprising, was the coyote which walked onto the road ahead to investigate something unseen by me. As always, the pronghorn antelope stood silently marking my progress, occasionally running alongside and then quickly turning across my path as if to illustrate her sprightly speed relative to my slow determined plodding.

The scent-barrier bag containing cold-brew oatmeal was drawn near, as the reality of wakefulness sunk in. Water was mixed with oatmeal the night before and was ready to eat without heating in the morning. After the oatmeal was eaten, instant coffee was added to the plastic jar, mixed with water and consumed with haste. The coffee was swirled before each drink to remove bits of oatmeal sticking to the sides. This was a surprisingly enjoyable routine and an adjustment from cooking oatmeal. This freed me from carrying cooking equipment and fuel. The plastic container was light and often needed no rising afterward, saving all of my water for consumption. The morning routine commenced with a constitutional and the breaking of camp. Remote camps require the digging of what's called a cat hole which is a hole six inches deep for doing your business. The trick to a successful dump is balance and aim. I practiced this skill in remote areas of Wisconsin but in each case I used a tree for balance. Using a tree for balance is not a possibility in the Great Basin which revealed another gap in my preparation and training for the Tour Divide.

The vastness of Great Basin combined with heat and wind to make progress slow

Yesterday's preparation for two nights on the Great Basin felt exactly right with three water bottles, a water bladder and food. Unfortunately, the preparation failed to account for how rapidly the hot dry air stripped moisture from my mouth and body. In just 36 miles from Atlantic City, half my entire water supply was gone. With another 50 miles to go until the next opportunity for resupply, my water supply was on the edge. At the time, however, this was not recognized. Concern was replaced by thankfulness that the weight of the bladder was no longer on my back.

Just as the packing up was completed, Joseph rolled up and stopped to talk. From him it would be learned that Max lingered in Atlantic City while Adam and Joseph camped not more than a half mile shy of my camp. Adam got started early so it was probably the sound of his wheels crushing gravel that entered my dreams. Yesterday the four of us shared a meal in Atlantic City and much of the day on the bikes from Pinedale. Joseph was an academic software engineer from Texas. He wasn't sure if his allocated vacation would be sufficient for completing the Tour Divide and was considering completing it even if it cost him his job. He would soon be days ahead of me, perhaps motivated by a desire to avoid a conflict with his university employer.

We rolled away from camp and pedaled up a short rise which revealed an oil and gas operation. A large metal arm plumbed the ground with a chugging sound that was astounding. The night before, sometime after midnight, I awoke to a silent starlit world. It was so quiet and the blazing stars were astoundingly bright even at the horizon. The atmosphere at the horizon took the light of one or more bright objects and created an ocular aberration which appeared as red and blue flickering lights. It was the stuff that UFO sightings are made of. The movement of the lights and the lack of reference points made a compelling case for something unidentified. I even puzzled on the possibilities for a time, having never seen an ocular aberration before.

Joseph and I continued our progress over the gravel roads to Warmsutter, an oasis amidst a desiccated basin. The route consisted of mostly forgotten gravel roads but also included a trek across a sage brush plateau without a discernible path to follow. It was amazing how quickly Joseph disappeared from view in the rolling landscape after a moment stopped to adjust some gear. Normally this wouldn't matter. Seldom did I keep the pace of those around me, preferring to roll along according to what felt best. In this moment, however, a sign of Joseph on the horizon would have served as a guide across the plateau. After a short climb to the top of a plateau, no evidence of the path taken by Joseph was found. This was surprising, considering that hundred or so other Tour Divide cyclists must have also recently traveled this route. The rim of the plateau was explored with an eye on the GPS unit while also avoiding the sage brush. The GPS unit showed my position relative to a red line representing the route all racers must follow. I came to a sudden stop when my path was about to cross the red line near the rim of the plateau. A right turn here was required to put me back on the line and drop me off the plateau down to where there was still no obvious road or track. I hesitated. Slowly the bike was inched toward the drop-off where the impression of a tire tread was noticed. The drop from the plateau was quick but soon leveled out and the GPS unit confirmed the right choice was made. At first, the only guide was the red line, until a pair of clear impressions in the earth soon appeared. This double track became a rough gravel road which joined a much wider gravel road. Up until this point, my trip through the Great Basin was on forgotten roads with no traffic save us cyclists and a lone hiker who stopped to ask me about services in Atlantic City.

After Warmsutter the wind and heat continued even as the road stretched on forever

The route eventually merged onto a wide gravel road which I was warned was created to support the gas and oil trucks that frequent the Great Basin for the extraction of resources. Being Sunday, there was hope that the truck traffic on the gravel road would be light and indeed it was. The road was wide but also poor with washboard, potholes and deep loose gravel. Riding conditions were made worse by a scorchingly hot and fierce headwind. My forward progress slowed but what was more worrisome was my water supply. The wind rapidly stripped moisture from my body. I tried to ration water but couldn't for fear my throat would close. The inside of my mouth felt desiccated. I tried breathing only through my nose to preserve moisture which limited my effort. I got slower. The heat and wind steadily increased as the day progressed. Wind guts of up 30 mph inhibited my efforts. Sometimes I bent low on the bicycle, resting my forearms on the top of the handlebars and grabbing the front bag for stability. This helped until my wheels sunk into a patch of deep loose gravel which attempted to direct the bicycle sideways, causing all forward momentum to be lost. It was six hours since leaving the desolate campsite this morning and there were still miles to go before reaching Warmsutter. The water was gone and there were still a couple of miles before services were reached. After bending low on the bike one last time, the most vigorous effort of day was made and the unexpectedly challenging trip to Warmsutter was completed.

When reading all I could in the months before the Tour Divide, I often encountered stories of how loneliness and the vastness of the route freed participants from their ego. This release from ego was repeated many times and often cited as one of the important reasons to partake in such a journey. For me the opposite occurred. The Tour Divide taught me that happiness could be felt in the most difficult moments flowing from the good thoughts around small accomplishments. Consequently, I very much enjoyed overcoming the parched and difficult ride to Warmsutter by celebrating my focus, balance and pedaling efficiency. I found myself congratulating myself after every stretch completed low on the bars and after every successful save when the bike suddenly wanted to go down in the thick loose gravel. My ego kept me from being miserable and kept me motivated to do more. I learned two things from the Tour Divide about myself, first that I am tougher than I thought and second, I need my ego. We tend to think ego is a bad thing and it certainly can be. This experience taught me it can also be a good thing providing a source of joy and the desire to succeed.

Greater Green River Basin

From the USGS Southwestern Wyoming Province Assessment

Warmsutter is an oasis along an Interstate highway which bisects the Great Basin. Having pedaled through a desert wilderness for two days, I found the crush of people, cars and trucks jarring. I placed my bike against the brick wall of the side of a building housing a Subway and a convenience store. Nearby a thin and unshaven man in his 30's was on his phone pressing his boss for more responsibility and money. In quick succession, he leveled several charges of incompetence against his supervisor. While his appearance didn't make him seem credible, the mayhem taking place inside the Subway was telling. The soda machine could no longer produce ice and the Coke nozzle dispensed only soda water. The line to order was long and growing. Later, other riders would tell me that this chaotic state affairs was taking place days before my arrival. All of us, motorists and cyclists alike, had little choice because this is the only chance for resupply for at least fifty miles in every direction. Momentarily, I felt the heavy burden of uncomfortable workplace situations from which there is no escape. Just as swiftly, my thoughts turned to how grateful I was for the gift of a memory only the crossing of the Great Divide Basin could provide.

Adam was spotted at a table eating chicken and drinking soda as I filed into line to order. While we ate, we shared stories of the heat, wind and road surface which made the last few hours challenging. Joseph arrived a moment later. He apparently left the route to investigate the ruin of a building. After joining us, he described a creepy and strange interior of a barn-like building long abandoned. The Subway/Chicken restaurant and adjacent convenience store where under construction and were busy as motorists tussled about. We lingered, not wanting to be out during the hottest portion of the day. Having arrived near 1 PM, we wasted two hours before we were overcome with the urge to resume our long march toward Mexico. When the choice of resuming during the hottest part of the day was questioned, Joseph indicated he was just biking far enough to find some shade and perhaps close his eyes for awhile. I was skeptical but anxious to get moving again even with temperatures in the mid-90's.

Hills appeared as the route inched closer to Colorado

Interestingly enough, the environment of sage desert continues south of Warmsutter as the Tour Divide route crosses the Washakie Basin. One of the most distinguishing features of the Washakie Basin are the fossils of early primates that have been found there. The fossils of Omomyids represent the early evolution of primates. These lemur-like creatures were small and climbed trees at night. Living 56 to 37 million years ago, these very distant members of our primate tree had fingernails instead of claws. For modern day primates riding bikes on the Tour Divide route, the Washakie Basin was distinguished from the Great Basin by rolling hills.

I thought the three of us departed the busy oasis of Warmsutter together but soon realized the absence of Joseph. Adam and I biked along conversing about bikes and riding in Australia which is where Adam calls home. As often happens we rolled along together for awhile but soon got separated by different paces and stops to adjust gear, transfer water from one bottle to a more convenient bottle or to enjoy a snack. The road was in pretty good shape and the strong hot wind was mostly coming at us from the right instead of head-on, as it was earlier in the day. Joseph's suggestion of taking a break in the shade came to mind as the vastness of the basin returned and the hot wind continued stripping moisture from my soul.

Now on my own, the search for shade began. With no trees, buildings or even a fence post, expectations of finding shade fell away. In the distance, a structure on the side of the road appeared. Upon approach, it became apparent that this was actually a Caterpillar road grader. The big yellow road construction implement was parked parallel to the road and off to the left. It cast a good shadow and blocked the westerly wind. Rolling in behind the machine I immediately noticed that it felt hotter in the shade without the wind to evaporate my perspiration. Laying down in the shade, a spot was discovered where the wind passed under the tractor and this created a cooling effect. It was easy to close my eyes but difficult to drift to sleep. It might have been good to rest for twenty minutes or even an hour but the feeling of fear that hours would escape while slumbering made it impossible. When Adam rolled past, the pull of the road was felt and the bike was pressed back into duty. After this short rest, I was hoping to feel invigorated. Instead, all that was gained was a feeling of pain. My saddle sores complained and my legs screamed for relief. Progress seemed slower and the washboard on the road seemed to worsen. An attempt was made to use the idea of catching Adam as motivation and soon I was rolling along in better spirits.

A second night of camping in the Great Basin

Hours passed and still Adam was nowhere in sight. There was no sign of Joseph on the horizon ahead nor behind. The GPS unit was checked to confirm the route was still being followed. Mountains appeared in the distance. Colorado was calling with it's tall mountains and long mountain passes. I was ready to trade desert for mountains but still have tens of miles to traverse. The desert of the Washakie Basin got hilly and was littered with buildings and boxes used to extract natural gas from below. It reminded me of a giant capped landfill where outlets for the methane gas produced by decaying waste were placed seemingly at random on the surface.

The breeze became cooler and my shadow got longer as evening approached. The hills felt wonderfully cooling with wind ripping though my clothing whenever gravity propelled bike and rider downhill. The gravel road was suddenly and obviously less traveled, with a few larger rocks but without the washboard from earlier in the day. After cresting a rise and rapidly gaining speed, a large yellow rattle snake was seen coiled in the middle of the road with head raised and jaws open in my direction. I did not linger and rolled past the snake before it had a chance to strike.

Up until now, the climbs were sometimes steep but not long and not difficult. After a few of these short climbs, a long climb was engaged which gained shy of 1,000 feet in about a mile. Not horribly long or steep by Tour Divide standards but as the clock pressed toward the 14th hour of my day, it felt like a very significant effort. The profile of the route was checked on my phone and the vast open plateau around was examined. Having left the cattle in the valley below, the top of the plateau looked deserted. The gravel road was followed further along and the plateau was surveyed for a suitable place to camp. It wasn't long before a spot near the edge of the plateau was chosen. From this site, the route ahead was seen to rise to a higher level and to my right and down a cliff, the long valley stretched back toward the Great Basin. It was a gorgeous spot but with rattlesnakes fresh in my mind, it was approached with caution.

After an inspection of the area, the gear was liberated from the bike. Joseph rolled up and said, "Gorgeous spot for a campsite." I gave him a quick rundown of the pros and cons. It was crazy gorgeous and there was a nearby depression so despite the lack of trees, you could do your business in relative privacy. In the column against, it was rockier than it first appeared and included an abundance of dried cow patties. The cow droppings were long desiccated so they didn't smell or attract bugs but be mindful of where you put your tent I told him. I also informed him I checked the area for rattlesnakes. He seemed to contemplate this for a moment and told me Adam should be coming by shortly before he headed off to camp further along the route.

Ideally, dinner was eaten before a campsite was chosen so that the smell of food was not part of the camp. In this case, the tent was set up and pieces of something called chicken tenders were consumed. A honey bun, a common sugary treat, was also devoured. Before the Tour Divide I had never eaten a honey bun, it was pretty awesome. Like much of the food packed for a day of riding, it was chosen because it was big on calories and small on size. All of the food and food waste was kept in special plastic bags which block odors. The idea was, by limiting the scents emitted from camp, the chance of visitors during the night was reduced. Mice and raccoons are annoying night visitors, while a visit from a hungry grizzly bear could be downright terrifying. The bags did nothing about the scent of chicken and sugar on my hands, which were usually cleaned with hand sanitizer afterward. I recall feeling very relaxed about the prospect of animal visits on such a wide open plateau, far from grizzly country.

Something poking around the tent startled me awake. The cricket which lulled me to sleep earlier was silent. Then I heard what sounded like sniffing on the right side of the tent. The food bag and bicycle were a few yards away on the opposite, left side of the tent. Frozen in place, I listened intently. When the sound seemed to move, I yelled, "hey!" There was no response. It became silent and after a time, sleepiness returned. When the cricket resumed its chirp, I decided to get up to look around and get the bear spray off the bike to have in the tent. Not wanting to ruin my eyes for the darkness, only the dim red light of the headlamp was used. The stars were brilliantly shining in a moonless sky. Another ocular aberration, confirmed my observation of last evening and extinguished the suspicion that little green people were trying to communicate with me. Back in the tent, I felt relaxed and satisfied that the sound was nothing more than a light breeze rustling the fly of my tent. The lonely cricket resumed its steady chirp, lulling me to sleep.

The second morning on the Great Basin was spectacular

The moment I awoke I felt happy. Happy to be over halfway on the Tour Divide route and happy to have all but a few miles of desert basin behind me. Except for possibly being checked out by an animal, the night was restful and the day was full of promise. My feelings of gratefulness and joy were greeted by the most fantastic sunrise effects. The sage brush was an electric pea green color and a storm in the distance created a huge and dramatic rainbow stretching high among sweeping rain clouds. It was the perfect start for a morning ride to the Brush Mountain Lodge and was the shortest day of travel on the Tour Divide.

It was a grand welcome upon arrival at the Brush Mountain Lodge. Several people I'd rode with were there, Bill, Mikki, Larry, Joseph and Adam among others. I would soon find out that Joseph contemplated camping a few miles beyond my camp only to be put off the idea when his bike light illuminated a pair of green eyes off to the side of the road. Adam told me when he rolled past my tent, I was already tucked in for the night and he proceeded toward the same spot Joseph considered. As he started to unpack his gear, a mountain lion approached, walking slowly toward his position. This Aussie pulled his stocky frame to full height and yelled at the large cat. The mountain lion was undeterred. Adam got out his bear spray and pointed it at the animal which continued a slow walk, zeroing in on him. He let loose some bear spray creating a small cloud between him and the cat. The cat retreated to just behind a fence with eyes still focused on Adam. He said it was terrifying as he repacked his gear with one hand while attempting to keep an eye on the cat and the other hand on the bear spray. He managed to roll away on his bike but said when a hill appeared he climbed faster than he thought was possible. He ended up biking another ten miles through the darkness to Savery and camped next to the post office. Joseph also made it to Savery that night and camped at a nearby campground, leaving me on the Great Basin plateau with the mountain lion.

Brush Mountain Lodge was like a spa for me. Adam and Joseph lingered there most of the day. Max arrived not long after I did so all four of us got a chance to share stories and catch up -- capping off the journey the four of us started together in Atlantic City. There could not have been a better ending to my day and two nights on Wyoming's Great Basin.

Elevation profile for days 16 and 17

On to Brush Mountain Lodge