Rogers and Hammerstein said the wind comes whistling down the plain in Oklahoma. In Wyoming, it screams. I don’t know the meaning of the word Wyoming but it must have something to do with “big-assed wind.” This state is nothing but wind. Last night the wind blew so had it knocked over my bike and rattled my tent with such consistency that I got only a few hours of sleep.
I’ve dealt with the wind ever since leaving the Tetons. Wyoming has the Tetons and then hundreds of thousands of square miles of high desert sage prairie. I have not seen more than three cords worth of trees growing in the more than 220 miles since I left the Tetons.
This morning I broke camp early with the hope of getting ahead of the winds that usually build during the day. I failed. Every mile to here was into a headwind, sometimes such a strong one that even my “granny” gear wasn’t good enough and I got off and walked the bike up. Coming into Rawlins there’s a slight downhill. Ah, at last a coast, I said. What a fool .I coasted to a stop on the descent because the wind was blowing so hard. I had to peddle downhill!!
The owner of this motel said two cyclists holed up here for two days last week hoping to get a break in the 66 m.p.h. winds. Our route map warns riders that winds “often range from 40-60 miles per hour,” so plan accordingly. My advice is peddle through the Tetons and then get a lift from there to the Colorado border.
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