The Great Divide Basin

We left Pinedale this morning and traveled 85 miles to the small towns of South Pass and Atlantic City. The roads (asphalt,  then gravel) were in good condition and we averaged 50 mph. We paralleled the Wind River range and crossed the Oregon Trail. We crossed the CD three times before hitting the old gold rush town of South Pass and took our first rest. South Pass passed the first bill in the US giving women the right to vote! 

We continued on another 4 miles to Atlantic City, population 54. It was here that the map indicated we could get fuel. The map was wrong. Doug went into the only open and active establishment and asked. The response: "No gas except 30 miles north in Lander. But perhaps you could get some from Wild Bill for $6/gal." Doug set out to find Wild Bill, and lucky for us, he was just heading off to town.  He kindly filled our tanks with 5 gallons of fuel, showed us his gun store (where anything you wanted was available), and talked politics.  Retired frim Nebraska,  he loved his new home (of 12 years) and expounded its virtues. Apparently,  he is well known as a source of fuel and motorcyclists usually plan ahead with Wild Bill. We'd read the wrong blog.

We stopped for a quick lunch and chatted with the proprietor, a transplant from Northern California and a nurse. She was now running the town restaurant and bar. Then we headed out into the Great Basin.

The Great Basin is a 3,600 square mile geographic conundrum,  where waters neither drain west nor east, but inward. And yet it is extremely dry with few water sources. The terrain didn't change as far as you could see. Our route zigzaged thru this barren country for 135 miles. I had to pay very close attention to the map. We didn't want to get lost out here. 

Four National Historic Trails - Oregon, Mormon,  Pony Express,  and California Trail converge here in the Sweetwater corridor in the Great Basin.

We passed pronghorn antelope, who bolt at very fast speeds, and wild horses. It wasn't hard to pick out the alpha stallion, as he stood protector over his brood as we rode thru.

Although beautiful in a way, the region was desolate and remote. I felt isolated and vulnerable.

The wind was incessant and noisey. Every once in a while it would grab my helmet and push it out of its trajectory with a jerk. We passed a cyclist on the route struggling mightily against the relentless headwind. We pitied him and then ducked down to get more aero ourselves.

We finally pulled in to Rawlins around 5pm. 230 miles and a big empty stretch complete.  We crossed the CD 5 times today. Tomorrow we enter Colorado. We leave the high desert sage brush and head into lush pine forests.  Our destination is Steamboat Springs.