Riding a Bicycle Across Wyoming (Part 2)

The Struggle to Leave Jeffrey, Wyoming

In Part 1, I told the story of the perilous ride on my bicycle during a cross-country tour from Rawlins to Jeffrey in Wyoming on a windy day. At the end of the day’s ride, I found myself in a weird bar with an odd assortment of characters. I couldn’t ride in the wind anymore that day, so I went next door to find a place to stay.

I would recommend reading Part 1 first.

Here is the link:

Part 2

An Old Motel

I rode my bike to the only hotel the town had to offer. As I surveyed the motel property, I still couldn’t tell if it was actually in business.

The house connected to the hotel was in poor shape and cluttered. Tires were strewn across the roof weighing down the metal roofing. An old truck backed up to the door.

I knocked on the door and the man that I had seen leaving the bar answered the door.

“Are you John,” I asked hopefully.

“Yep” the only reply.

“Can I get a room for tonight,” I asked.

“$48.59” is all he said.

I was sure he made the number up. I wondered why he didn’t just say fifty dollars. I pondered if I wanted to pay that much as the wind blew all around me.

I thought about bargaining with him but decided against it. He probably hadn’t rented a room for a week and he looked like he could use the money. Also, I was fairly certain he could see the desperation on my face.

“You take credit cards,” I asked.

“Had to shut the phones off due to economy,” he explained, “Got a credit card machine but don’t work ’cause no phones. Cash only’

I went to my bike to get money, counted out fifty dollars and gave it to John for the room. He didn’t offer me any change.

“Number seven is the only one with ‘lectricity,” he said, “It should be unlocked” He didn’t hand me a key or any paperwork. I looked at him expectantly. He looked at me.

“Well, okay,” I said awkwardly and walked away and towards the room.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting in a shabby old motel room writing my journal while listening to the wind howling outside.

Contrary to what the lady in the bar had said, the room did have a television. It was a 1980s Zenith that had nothing but static on every channel when I turned it on.

I turned off the TV and sat down on a creaky old wooden chair and survey my surroundings.

The curtains were old, thick, brown and stained. The carpet was orange and even more stained than the curtains. The room was old and in a state of disrepair but it wasn’t as dirty as you would think. It was mostly just musty from lack of use.

There was some hot water (or warm anyway) but I couldn’t get the room heater to turn on. I took a lukewarm shower. There were, of course, no provided toiletries. An old towel was folded and sat on the back of the toilet. It, too, smelled musty but looked clean.

Oh well, I thought as I laid down fully clothed under the only cover the bed had. With no TV, internet or cell phone service, I thought I might as well get some sleep so I could ride the next day.

Stuck in the Middle of Nowhere

I woke up at 4:30 am. The night was miserable. I could never get warm. The wind blew and blew until I was afraid it would blow the old building down. But that wasn’t the fear that kept me up. It was the fear of being able to ride out of that godforsaken town.

By 6:30 in the morning, I was packed and ready to hit the road.

On most days, a strong wind makes the day’s riding hard. The problem was that I thought riding in those gale-force winds wouldn’t be just hard, but impossible. I had never seen winds like this that weren’t connected to a storm, not even in Kansas.

The winds were from the west and I was going northwest.

The first 20 miles of the ride out of town were supposed to be a slight climb but directly into the wind. If I could just make it the first 20 miles, I thought, the road shifted to the north for a while and then there would be some downhill riding. Although I didn’t particularly relish going downhill with that strong of a cross wind, it was better than the uphill headwind the first part of the day would entail.

Empirical evidence had always told me to get up early to beat the wind. But it was 6:30 am and I didn’t think the wind could get any worse.

So, I gave it a little time to see if it at least warmed up a bit. I though I would wait 30 minutes and then try to ride. If worse came to worse, I thought I could try to flag a pickup truck down and ask for a ride. Traffic on this route had been sparse but there was an occasional vehicle on the road.

At 7 am, I pushed my bike out the door of the hotel, jumped onto the bike and tried to ride straight into that strong headwind.

I pedaled my bike as hard as I could but I didn’t even make it 100 yards. The wind was a cold mix of a headwind and a cross wind. It was, indeed, impossible to ride in. I was beaten.

I decided to turn around and go back to the hotel. That part was easy. I didn’t even have to pedal. The wind blew me back to the hotel like some evil spirit keeping me from leaving the town.

I was not dressed for the cold weather. It was the middle of June, after all. Back in my hotel room, my fingers still ached with cold as I decided to wait for it to at least warm up a little bit more. I had little hopes the wind would die down.

At 7:30 am, the wind had still not lightened up one bit. I smelled fire so I quickly examined my motel room to make sure nothing was burning. I looked out the door and saw smoke coming from the motel owner’s smokestack. He must have gotten cold too. At least he had heat.

I wonder how much John, the motel owner, would charge me for a ride to Lander.

By 7:45 am, the wind had gotten stronger. Suddenly, the wind blew my motel door open surprising me so much that I jumped out of my chair. I slam the door shut and moved the chair in front of the door to make sure it didn’t blow open again.

The wind truly wasn’t going to make riding that day possible. With no place to eat but that crazy old bar, I did not want to spend another night in this town.

By 8:30 am, I decided I would knock on John’s door. My plan would be to offer him $60 for a ride into Lander. But to get out of that town, I was willing to go to $100.

Surprisingly, he accepted the $60 and by 9 am, I was on the road and heading out of town. The heat in his old truck felt good and I was glad to be putting miles between me and that forgotten old ghost town.

A Ride Out of Town

On the road, John told me that although it was often windy around there, those winds seemed particularly strong. He also said that the temperature had dipped to 36 degrees that night. That explained why I was so cold in my light rain jacket and shorts.

The ride over confirmed that I couldn’t have ridden in it. Wind blew his truck all over the road. Also, the road was being freshly chip-tarred, although the crews weren’t working on account of the wind. A deep layer of loose gravel covered the road. That combined with the freshly tarred shoulders would have been hell to ride on.

At one point during the ride to Lander, a rock flew up and cracked his windshield but he didn’t seem to notice. I didn’t point it out because I didn’t want him to rethink the $60 deal.

Lander, Wyoming

When we got to Lander, he dropped me off downtown and soon, I was sitting in a coffee shop in the comparably big city (about 9500 residents) with hotel choices that had television and heat, a bike shop, and several options for restaurants with friendly waitresses.

I decompressed over a cup of coffee, wrote my journal for the day, and then headed off to find a room for the night. The hotels were fairly full because of highway workers working on the road were staying in the city but I managed to find a nice room.

The local news reported all kinds of problems all over Wyoming with the horrific winds. The road workers staying in the same Lander hotel as me had the day off because of the low temperature and confirmed 45 mph winds with gusts up to 80 mph.

My initial assessment of John the motel owner was unfair. He turned out to be a nice guy and I think he drove me to Lander more to help me out than for the money. He talked a great deal and I learned a lot about him, Jeffrey City, and Wyoming.

Up Next: The Tetons

I spent the day in Lander regrouping and recovering. I was completing my ride in the Rockies and looking off in the distance towards the Tetons.

As I wondered how in the world I would ever make it over those steep mountains, I was reminded of the lesson I had learned many times on my bike and was once again confirmed in Jeffrey. No matter how bad it may seem right now, eventually it will be in the past.

To see how the rest of the journey worked out, you can see my journal here: cgoab.com/cwmelzer