Trans Am 2017 Day 8: Lander, WY to Cowdrey, CO — 234 Miles, +8,690 ft
I woke up a little after 7, almost an hour after my alarm, daylight pouring into the window and panic taking over my body. FUCK. Well, not that much panic, because I lay in bed for a couple minutes rejoicing in the comfort of the soft, warm bed. Ah the luxury of the Rodeway Inn.
This was the first time I’d overslept, but I knew that I’d badly needed it and that it would probably serve me well in the long run. 6 hours of sleep was a lot, but not too much. I still held a good advantage on the guys behind and was now really well rested. I microwaved the breakfast I’d gotten the night before, packed up and rolled out of town feeling pretty tired. It was already hot and I could feel the sun beating, so I stopped into the convenience store at the junction to turn off to Sweetwater Station, got some sunscreen, and filled up water. Oh good, 15 miles in and already stopping. Pick up the fucking pace, dude!
The ride to Sweetwater is all uphill, with a decent little climb up a canyon wall just before you get to town. I wasn’t crushing it by any means, but kept it moving pretty well. I had a bit of a headache as if I were dehydrated, and realized that I hadn’t drank much water before bed to go along with my massive pizza. I was probably dehydrated, and it was hot and windy so that wouldn’t get any better any time soon, but I would have to try and keep as many fluids going in as possible.
If I haven’t told you already, I love the Wyoming landscape, quiet, and remoteness, so I had a blast going through the canyon walls and high plains on the way to Sweetwater. The climb wasn’t too bad and helped to get the blood flowing. I was eating greasy breakfast sandwiches which helped keep my energy sustained, so rolled into Sweetwater Station to fill up at the rest stop feeling good.
Amy and I had stayed at the Mormon Handcart visitor center the year before, and I looked on with good memories as I passed the beautiful property. Amy and I had put in a 120 mile day (our longest yet) and were pretty cooked when we got there. She was having issues with dry eyes so her face was swollen and couldn’t see out of one her eyes. We looked forward to chilling when we got there, but were instead welcomed by the “Elders” that ran the visitor center with a historical movie and lots of conversation. They were incredibly nice and it was a really good experience, but we were both so exhausted and Amy could hardly keep her eyes open. One of the elders brought us brownies in the morning while we were rolling out. We had a great time there and suggest to anyone going to by stop in and chat! I remembered those funny times as I went by, but saw that the road into the property was completely flooded in spring time melts and rain. I hoped they could still take cyclists in!
The wind was coming strong from the southwest, and slowed me at times when heading south, and aided when going west. I got into a good groove and was cooking on my way to Jeffrey City and Muddy Gap. I rolled through Jeffrey and onto Muddy Gap, loving the dry air and low key Wyoming vibes. I chatted with Luke who had made it all the way to Jeffrey City, though he was now not far ahead because he had gotten in at like 530 and slept for a couple hours. Again, you don’t make up ground with big nights, but instead consistent and steady days back to back (something I might learn at some point).
This day was about trying to cement my position in the field by backing up my big ride from the day before with a strong one today. Luke was getting crushed by wind on the couple miles heading due south from Muddy Gap, and I knew it would only be worse when I got there. I rolled into Muddy Gap doing well and scarfed as much greasy food as I could. I sat outside for a minute eating a prepackaged sandwich and chatted with a rather rundown guy driving from Colorado to Oregon, towing a large trailer with a thirty year old station wagon.
I got back on the road, Ken not far behind me. There was no doubt that even though I’d slept pretty well, my inconsistent sleep schedule had zapped some power and I wasn’t pedaling quite as strong as I had been. I at least had a couple hours of sleep on the guys behind me and knew that I would have to go later than them to keep my advantage, as guys like Ken had no doubt gotten up before I did.
The wind was pretty bruising heading south and I was creeping along, but then the road turns more to the east and you can roll a bit more freely. Except that this is probably the worst stretch of road on the whole Trans Am. There are massive trucks ripping by on the regular so pedaling in the lane is super dangerous, but the shoulder consists of rumble strips, broken pavement, then dirt. I did my best to stick to the thin strip of decent pavement covered in dirt to the far right, but the cross wind made it impossible to stay straight and I would either go into the broken crap or the dirt and I could only hope that I didn’t slide off the road.
It was pretty clear after ten miles that I hadn’t brought enough fluids with me. I’d already drank one of the three one liter bottles that I had with me and was only a quarter of the way to Rawlins, 30 mile still to go. And the road wouldn’t get any quicker with this wind. I passed by the Annalope Cafe, a run down former establishment in the middle of nowhere on the north east corner of the incredibly dry, empty, and awesome Great Divide Basin, near something that says “Bairoil” on the map. When Amy and I cam through, the ACA maps had listed this as an open service along the route, but fortunately we did some research before we got there and found out that it was actually closed.
There is a beautiful, small mountain range behind it with a couple shark fin like limestone rock formations popping out of the side. I’ve always wanted to go up there and explore, and I guess people do go rock climbing up there. Yet another reason to go back to Wyoming!
When Amy and I were there together, we were both still getting used to all things road bikes and she couldn’t get her foot out her new clip in pedals when we stopped, so tumbled over hilariously. Don’t worry, I caught it on camera:
Look familiar? Yes, yes it does. Some things never change:
So of course I HAD to recreate the fall from 2016 on my second time through:
It wasn’t perfect (afternoon light not quite as good as morning!), but it did the job. Quick shout to Amy because, if you look in my bio, she is the “Executive Producer” of this publication and has been a massive help to me in getting these posts out and editing them to be readable (as have a lot of my family). Also, she got 15th in this race and absolutely smashed it, so she can fall on her bike and still be cool. Sorry, Amy, to put you on blast here, but I had to!
There is one 8 mile or so straight away before a small hill where the wind got really bad, and I could do nothing but spin and battle the cross winds. The gusts would blow me towards the road then stop, leaving me swerving all over the place at incredibly slow speeds. Again, it made it kind of fun to grind it out and I really didn’t mind. It was arid, the Great Divide Basin feels a bit like Mars, and I was out in the middle of nowhere just riding my bike. But the wind in this section definitely slowed me quite a lot. I finally got to the hill that climbs out of the basin and absolutely crept up with the wind blasting me in the face. The road turns at the top and I enjoyed a nice respite on the way to Rawlins.
A pickup truck was stopped on the side of the road with its hood open and I asked the guy if all was good when I rolled by. He said he was having some issues but couldn’t call anyone because he didn’t have service. I did, so I gave him my phone and he called his wife to let her know what was up. He managed to get the car turned back on and we both headed down to Rawlins. I was racing but have had enough cars stop to help me while I was stranded on the side of the road that I had to take the chance to return the favor.
I chatted with Luke and he said that he was planning on sleeping through the wind outside of Rawlins before heading south to Saratoga. I guess the wind was really bad on that stretch, but would die down after the sun went down. My kind of plan! I told him I’d meet him wherever he was, nap til 9 or so, then keep going. He was at the rest stop in Fort Steele, so I stopped in Rawlins for supplies, then headed towards him, suffering that brief stretch of Highway 80.
I pulled off at Fort Steele, not sure where Luke was, and had my phone out trying to load the tracker but lacking the service to do so. While I did that, a massive truck rolled up next to me and the driver hollered out the window, “Are you Max??” Yes! And who was this legend?!? The legend was Joe Ryder, and I went over to his window to chat and he told me he was avidly watching dots and had seen mine off to the side of the highway so he pulled over. I told him I was looking for Luke and he said his dot was over in the rest area on the other side of 80, so we both headed that way.
I found Luke asleep by a picnic table and chatted with the truck driver for a few minutes. He was a great dude and a huge supporter, and his great energy and good vibes were welcome. I lost out on some sleep because of the chat, but it was worth it. We filmed a quick video and I headed over to the picnic table where Luke was sleeping to get some of my own.
I wasn’t tired, but since we planned to ride late I knew I should get sleep, so I let myself wind down and finally got sleepy. Various things got in my way of actual sleep, but I lay in this lucid state for 30 or 40 minutes before Luke rose and started to get ready. I reluctantly followed, and was disappointed that all my lying down had got me was some serious drowsiness. Joe filmed a quick video of Luke as I got ready as well:
I hadn’t slept and only felt worse, but I hoped that just laying down had given me the rest I’d need. I was feeling good at the point I peeled of the nap, so I probably should have just kept going, especially since the wind didn’t seem all that bad (although reports were that it was horrific). I didn’t feel great as we set off down the rest of 80 before our turn to Saratoga, and felt even worse when Luke had a crash.
The eastbound half of 80 was closed for construction (just as the westbound side had been when Amy and I passed through the year before). With Amy, we stayed on the closed road and just avoided the construction, so thats what Luke and I planned to do. This was confirmed when I saw bike tire tracks through the dirt that skirts around the barriers, but we were still wary. Luke said that Donncha had told him to be careful of the construction, so we were rolling slow when we rocked up to a row of cones in the middle of the road. We passed some machinery and all the sudden I hear Luke start shouting “woah woah woahhhhhh!!!!!” I saw in front of us a three foot wide gap at the beginning of an overpass but couldn’t tell how deep it was. I slowed, thinking I would roll through gingerly, but stopped quickly when I heard Luke’s shouts beside me and saw how deep the gap was. He had rim brakes, unfortunately, and couldn’t stop in time before the gap. Almost in slow motion (he was going about 1mph at this point), his wheel dropped into the darkness and half of it disappeared among the rebar. The back one raised and Luke was sent sprawling out on the pavement in front. He groaned and yelled and his bike sat half in the hole. He seemed more or less uninjured, but I thought his bike must be toast. He picked himself up and checked his bike up for damage, which was remarkably fine. A massive chunk of skin in his hand was gone, though, and he was bleeding pretty badly. Luke is a savage so he just threw on a glove and said let’s go. He had some gnarly setbacks in this race, but pushed on really, really hard until he couldn’t go anymore. He is an exceptionally tough dude who will do really, really well in these races when he is able to go through without incident.
I was reminded, though, why I don’t like riding with other people. Their problems become yours, and their energy gets absorbed into yours. I was slightly annoyed to have this distraction, but was still happy to ride with someone, especially a really strong and experienced rider who I really liked hanging out with. The vibes were damaged, however, and the ride to Saratoga was a struggle. I was pretty drowsy and wondered if it would be smart to continue on, but we both agreed that we needed coffee and some food at the Kum and Go in Saratoga, then we’d assess from there.
Some gas stations are just better than others, and this one was an absolute star. There was a ton of hot food and good coffee, as well as a table to enjoy it all. We crushed food and coffee, and rolled out of the gas station feeling great and ready for a late night. Saratoga is another rad town I was sad to go through at night. We left feeling strong, and breezed through the miles to Riverside. Or at least I did. Luke started to hurt a bit when we came into town, and faded a bit behind me. I needed to deuce badly, and was shocked to see one of the two establishments in this “town” open. The Mangy Moose had a couple rowdy locals hanging out, and I went in — with permission — and used their toilet. Ah, ok now I was ready for the long night.
Luke was still hurting a bit, and faded behind me in the hills out of Riverside. It was a lot more climbing than I remembered and the rollers just kept going on and on. Finally, I got to the top of them, and Luke’s light was nowhere to be seen behind me. He’d been pedaling slow, and something had fallen off of his bike, slowing him even further. It was very cold at this point as well, and I descended this lump with layers.
I continued on for a while until I saw Lukes light descending the hill a mile or two behind me, so I stopped to pee and wait for him. It was the middle of the night, we were in a high desert plain, and we were at the point where sleep would be more efficient than continuing to pedal slowly. I was also worried about Luke, who as a Minnesotan did not do well at altitude and might make a bad decision in this cold night. It was nearly freezing and borderline too cold for me to sleep outside, but Luke didn’t even have a bivvy (he’d accidentally purchased the pillow in West Yellowstone) and no puffy jacket. I’d already started looking for barns or any dwelling to sleep in, but had no luck. There was a gatehouse to a fancy guest ranch that would have been perfect, but it was locked.
Luke caught up and we consulted. He badly needed sleep and we were still 25 miles from Cowdrey, our next town. I agreed that we should sleep as soon as possible, but that we couldn’t stop outside. That stretch of road is a legit high mountain desert and gets really cold at night. Fortunately he knew that as well, so we continued down the road with an eye for a dwelling. It’s a pretty barren stretch, unfortunately, so we only passed two or three properties the whole way. For some reason, my ego was fixated on crossing the border into CO that night, so I wasn’t too unhappy to continue on. We crossed the border and I knew we were close, so at this point figured we would make it all the way. We were pedaling at crazy low power, though, and we were both drowsy, Luke even more so.
The sun started to come over the mountains, and this helped keep us awake, but didn’t inject any power. We finally hit the short hill that would then drop us into the large valley where Cowdrey was. Both the hill and the sunrise gave me a lot of energy, and I actually descended feeling pretty good with a stupid beautiful view of the massive valley and mountains around Walden. Luke was dragging hard though, and we finally made it to Cowdrey where we were ready to crash. We’d caught Richard and were riding on pace with Jose, who also rode through the night, but we pulled in a little before 6 and were bound for a slow morning when we woke up.
I was frustrated with my decision. I knew already that it was inefficient to keep going at night when your power is crazy low and you are super sleepy. I felt like I should have slept maybe 20 miles earlier, but had been worried about how we’d fair in that cold. Oh well, we rolled into the tiny post office in Cowdrey where Richard was asleep and curled up. It took a few for the sunrise adrenaline to wear off, but when it did I slept hard.
I’d pedaled through Wyoming and more in two pushes, my only sleep a couple quality hours in Lander, had caught the group ahead, and really felt like I was racing. The first day of the race had been a sprint, and I think I spent the next two or three days unsure of how hard I could push or how to proceed, instead just holding on. I’d held strong though, and gained confidence in my ability. My decision to sleep in Cameron had been a risk, but it was a launching pad into the next phase of my race that put me up with Luke and Richard along with Donncha and Bo (who I would catch the next day). It was a point in the race where people were starting to fade really hard, but I was getting stronger and gaining confidence in my riding all the way. I went to sleep in Cowdrey with some regrets, but thrilled to be in the middle of a motha fucking race, baby!
Trans Am Day 1: Astoria, OR to McKenzie Bridge, OR
Trans Am Day 2: McKenzie Bridge, OR to Prairie City, OR
Trans Am Day 3: Prairie City, OR to Council, ID
Trans Am Day 4: Council, ID to Lochsa Lodge, ID
Trans Am Day 5: Lochsa Lodge, ID to Bannack State Park, MT
Trans Am Day 6: Bannack State Park, MT to Cameron, MT
Trans Am Day 7: Cameron, MT to Lander, WY
Trans Am Day 8: Lander, WY to Cowdrey, CO
Trans Am Day 9: Cowdrey, CO to Alma, CO
Trans Am Day 10: Alma, CO to Haswell, CO
Trans Am Day 11: Haswell, CO to Ness City, KS
Trans Am Day 12: Ness City, KS to Rosalia, KS
Trans Am Day 13: Rosalia, KS to Ash Grove, MO
Trans Am Day 14: Ash Grove, MO to Pilot Knob, MO
Trans Am Day 15: Pilot Knob, MO to Elizabethtown, IL
Trans Am Day 16: Elizabethtown, IL to Falls of Rough, KY
Trans Am Day 17: Falls of Rough, KY to Booneville, KY
Trans Am Day 18: Booneville, KY to Meadowview, VA
Trans Am Day 19: Meadowview, VA to Daleville, VA
Trans Am Day 20: Daleville, VA to Mt. Olivet Baptist Church, VA
Trans Am Day 21 FINISH: Mt. Olivet Baptist Church, VA to Yorktown, VA
Ice Cream or Ass Cream: The Trans Am “Epilogue”
Stay tuned for more to come…