Tag: Wyoming
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Chasing George Wyman: Crossing The Great Divide
With my optimism back, I settled into the ride and began to consider how far I thought I could make it that day. Would it be possible to ride all the way to the group rendezvous point in Council Bluffs, Iowa, making up the distance I had lost? Adding the 200 miles I had lost the previous day to the 550 long distance miles allocated for this stage of the trip would put my total for the day at a formidable 758 miles. Averaging 60 mph I knew I was looking at a bare minimum of 13 hours in the saddle, not counting the 8-10 fuel stops that my Halcyon 250 would require. After running over the numbers in my head, I decided to play it as it lay and enjoy the ride.
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Chasing George Wyman: A Malfunction Junction
On Tuesday, June 27th, I rolled out of my motel bed, fumbled into my riding gear, and checked out with my helmet on and my pannier bags under my arm. 10 minutes later, I was settling into my second day of the ride with a gorgeous Nevada morning. This second day would take me into Utah, across the Bonneville Salt Flats, over the Wasatch mountain range, and into the rolling hills of Wyoming. I had been concerned that the second day would be worse than the first day, however, after fueling up and the initial discomfort of climbing back into a saddle in which I had just spent 16 hours wore off, the clear early morning air had me exhilarated and ready to settle into the 570 miles I needed to cover to reach our next rendezvous point in Laramie, Wyoming. Little did I know that I would not make it to Laramie that day, nor that I would end the day 200 miles short of the rest of the group as a result of a mechanical issue that was entirely my fault!
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Better Than The Tail
Legends grow as they roll along. Like snowballs they gather hyperbole packed deep in layers until the truth is buried somewhere way beneath. Telling and retelling of ancient stories swell the past until they take on a life of their own, only resembling the original in hazy memory. Good days far removed become epic, the older I get the faster I was and ancient asphalt snakes become the Nurburgring.
Highway 129, i.e. The Tail Of The Dragon, is such legend. Its 318 curves in 11 miles are fact, but there is also some legend around this stretch of twisty tarmac. The Tree of Shame, that tree at the beginning whose bark is a mangled plastic fairing testament to poor decisions adds to the lore, attracting swarming moths of sporty pretenders on everything from Honda Groms to McLaren hypercars. They make the pilgrimage to ride The Dragon, to get the sticker, buy the refrigerator magnet and say they were there.
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