Day 42: Rawlins to Riverside, Wyoming

Sinclair

A few miles east of Rawlins lies the town of Sinclair, which leaves no mystery to its industry. "Sinclair" is Sinclair Oil's Wyoming refinery. This explained the numerous trucks loaded with metal pipe that had passed me previously.

Endless

Today, continuous 40mph winds. The first 20 miles in my favor (woo!), the remaining 40 miles a grind of sidewinds and headwinds. A day with heavy wind is like two without, sucking all my energy and leaving me wrung out at the end of the day, without even my usual 7pm endorphin rush.

At day's end I reached Riverside / Encampment, an historic copper mining area, and checked in to the EZ RV Park. Though I was too tired for company, I fell in with a group of assorted travelers that included: Peter, a bicyclist from Georgia on the TransAmerican route; a young couple from New Zealand on an extended world tour, traveling America by car; and an older couple from Australia, also on bicycles. The others had all been there at least a day and spent an evening drinking together, and it quickly became clear that Peter had commanded center stage, completely dominating the conversation.

Over dinner, Peter brought out a laptop to show his travel photos. I laughed when it appeared, and pointed out that it weighed twice as much as my tent, to which he defensively replied, "I travel light. I'm doing 80 to 100 miles a day." He pushed the laptop at each person in turn to make sure we saw his photos. Perhaps I saw something of myself in him, or perhaps I resented him for showing the energy and enthusiasm I felt I had lost, or perhaps he really was the self-aggrandizing jerk I imagined him to be, but regardless, there wasn't enough room in the conversation for both of us, which was a shame, because I was much more interested in the kiwi couple, who'd been traveling the world for six years(!).

In the moments when Peter was hunting for certain photos, I quietly asked the kiwis about their lives, and learned that after college, they'd lived in and traveled out of the UK for most of 6 years, taking menial jobs to support further travel. Peter would wait politely for other speakers to finish sentences, before resuming with his own narrative. As the others began ordering drinks, I regretfully begged off and turned in for the night.