With heavy hearts we pulled out of Rawlins, Wyoming pointing south towards Steamboat Springs, Colorado. We were leaving Gary behind to face two days of hard riding back to Santa Cruz to try to make it to work on time. I had never been so glad to be unemployed. The riding in Wyoming had been my favorite thus far. I briefly considered hanging behind to post up in a small town and give Wyoming a bit more time.
Maybe it was time to trade in the DR for one of these.
Or maybe I could better explore the high elevation deserts in this.
As tempting as it all sounded, Colorado beckoned as did our approaching intersection with the Trans-America Trail which would see us turn west and begin the push for home.
We had been hitting occasional rain and bad weather throughout the final stretch of Wyoming, and as we crossed into Colorado the skies began to darken and we made ready to encounter the flooding and thunderstorms that had been predicted on the local news.
Here is Rob getting ready. Being from New York, he's the go to guy when it comes to keeping it fashionable.
As we continued south out of Steamboat Springs I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me as sparks seemed to leap from the back of Michael's rear tire.
It wasn't long before he pulled over to the side of the road in front of me.
It was the first flat tire of the trip, and the first roadside tube change for any of us. In the hot sun with the tire warmed up it all went easy. We removed an enormous nail from the rear tire and were on the move again within 30 minutes.
So far we had been lucky. Despite the dark clouds the rain had failed to materialize. As we pulled into a small town, parked up and began walking over to a Mexican Restaurant the skies finally opened up. The rain pounded down, and waterfalls began flowing through the ceiling of the restaurant as their outside umbrellas threatened to blow away. Dry and warm we happily sipped on margaritas, and the sun was already shining by the time we paid our bill and walked back to the bikes.
The sunshine didn't last long unfortunately, and we found ourselves riding into a storm that would follow us all the way to Moab. With flashes of lightening all around us and the sounds of thunder we attempted to push through to good weather. I took solace in the telephone poles that skirted the road, but we soon found ourselves riding hard through empty fields, following a track on the GPS that seemed determined to wind us deeper and deeper into the storm.
We eventually managed to emerge from the immediate lightening and rain, breathing sighs of relief as we wiped the water from our goggles and took in the beautiful Colorado scenery through the clearing skies.
We carried on south...