The open range

7/6/09 Update This

Yesterday I hit Jackson around lunchtime but let me digress. Four days
ago I left Maybell heading for dirt roads, open range, canyons, and
the Wyoming border. I suppose you would say I was having a slow day? I
don't really know, it was one of those days where the pedals never
seem to turn easy, I'll just blame it on the wind though am unable to
recall which direction it was a'blowin. Along the north side of
Dinosaur Natnl. Monument I passed canyons and a few ranches dotting
the otherwise empty landscape before turning due north onto the 10N
road to begin my dirt road odyssey through Irish Canyon. It is so
named for the three Irishmen who robbed a Rock Springs saloon and made
for the north end of the canyon to consume the loot. If ever there was
going to ne a day to see snakes that was it, it was hot and dry and I
was alone with my thoughts and the pungent sage, but I only saw the
tail of what I presume was a small bull snake as it slithered away as
I was turning my bike around after snapping a picture. After four or
five hours of riding I hit the WY border and pavement so carried on
with another 55 miles to go to Rock Springs. I climbed, I descended, I
climbed, I descended, I ate and drank, and kept a vigilant eye on the
dark clouds that had been hanging over the western skies all day. With
about 90 miles under my belt and 30 still to go the dark sky overtook
me and began pelting me with raindrops as heavy as bumble-bees,
putting on a concert of rumbles, and occasionally flashing lightning
in the distance. Shortly after I decided to pick up my pace and head
for shelter at what looked like a ranch about a half mile ahead,
someone in a truck that had just passed me but turned around, asked me
if I wanted a ride because of the storm. I accepted. That particular
storm wasn't terrible but it did continue to storm on and off all
evening. So, Gary and I headed to Rock Springs, he drove me to a KOA
then upon arriving said I could just shower at his place and he'd take
me to a place I could camp for free, and after my shower he said I
could just stay there and sleep in the back of their camper van in the
driveway. As it turned out Thursday was Gary's Friday and I wonder if
he picked me up and kept me around for company because the rest of his
family seemed rather preoccupied with their own goings on, oh I doubt
it.

Having ridden close to 260 miles in three days I was determined to
make Friday easier and shorter so only went as far as the tiny
crossroads town of Farson, about 40 miles from Rock Springs. You
wouldn't think it a small town by the amount of business the
mercantile/ice cream parlor does, it was steady all day long and
deservedly so. I was most definitely a happy patron renewing my
fondness for strawberry cheesecake ice cream. It was an otherwise
uneventful day of sitting, napping, and sitting, with the occasional
intermission for a rainshower. The following day was the 4th of July
and the town was abuzz with talk of the Farson rodeo. For a moment I
thought about sticking around but decided to push on north.