GDT - Day 19 Rawlins to Elk Skull Hunters Camp

Tues. Aug. 09, 2016

Start - 6750
High pt  approx 7965
Lo pt
End Elv 7400
Climbing > 2000

Miles 47
Total time 9:25
Ride time 7:21
Day with BOB 18
Crossed the Divide, back on Pacific drainage

The wild and wily, wearying Wyoming wind wreaks havoc on my progress as I ride toward my exit of the barren southern WY lands.
Colorado is just a few hours away, and I was  beginning to think that the wind was trying with intent to prevent me from leaving this sparsely populated state, once I had fallen into its web.
I didn't get quite as far today as I fought the nasty head wind for all but a mile today. It was probably blowing 15 to 20 mph steady with 30+ mph gusts. This may be my longest day yet in the saddle.

The big climb was 6 miles of good road and reasonable pitch, but the wind was an active participant in this, turning it into a two hour assault on today's divide crossing at 32 miles in. I am not alone with mantras of what goes up, must go down, and dreamt of a long downhill on the far side to help drive my grinding. Alas, the down hill was short lived, leading to a fair number of creek crossing drainages with tiring climbs out of them into the wind, which would grow with gusto as one near the top.

The topography is starting to change as we approach the Sierra Madre mountains. On the long low tendrils of ridges reaching north there is vegetation, and yeh, even trees.  I do believe I even saw some small snow patches, remnants no doubt of mighty winter cornices on the east facing ridge lines, supplying a bare minimum of moisture to support those early patches of green. There is hope!

Just before camp, a kind fellow from the local hobby ranch came out and offered water and conversation. I enjoy hearing the stories of folks met along the way. We are a large and diverse country, with good folks from all over and all walks of life, each on their own journey interpreting the American way.

TREES!!! I did reach the trees in the last mile or 2 and joined Dennis and Karen in a sheltered camp spot  for a welcome change. They found a well outfitted hunters camp with a resident elk skull as well as Pasquale,  a steer who seemed possessive of the camp as he circled it at evening and night. Karen reported the Pasquale stuck his nose under the fly of her tent and snorted into a window in the middle of the night, which was a wee bit unnerving!

I am in the trees and on the edge of foothills of real mountains again. As I reflect on the 200 plus miles of stark and empty landscapes that is central and southern Wyoming, I can see there is a certain beauty in it's starkness. It is most certainly a land where the birds and the antelopes play still, but few others do. I am afraid that after 250 miles of this, my "Stark Beauty" cup runneth over, and I am anticipating my home state of Colorado with real excitement.

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