Up and over

Keith had warned the wind in Wyoming was just like someone flicked a switch at 11am and he was not wrong. It was fierce.

Wyoming is home to the Wind River, the Little Wind River, the Wind River Range, the Wind River Canyon, the Wind River Indian Reservation, the Wind River Casino, Little Wind Casino and a few wind farms. I think it’s fair to say it was quite windy.

Wyoming is part of ‘big sky country’. The clouds roll across the sky like waves and the blue-green sage bushes move like coral against the pounding wind. When we were told these wide plains were once part of a sea bed, it wasn’t much a stretch of the imagination.

In big sky country, storms could appear on the horizon and travel to meet us in the blink of an eye. We would start out saying, ‘hmm..I don’t think we’ll get that rain’ and end up with lightening, thunder and hail an hour or two later. Nevermind the bears, being caught right in the middle of an electric storm was possibly the scariest moment of our lives. We have to admit, too, pretty freakin’ exhilarating. For days when we were asked where we were going, all we could answer was “We nearly got struck by lightning”

In the near deserted Jeffrey City, a former uranium mining town, we met up with Neil and Adi, avid cyclists from New Zealand. How nice it was to hear a familiar accent. We spent the next few days trying to out run them. But they always seemed to catch us around 3 o’clock in the afternoon. ‘Here they come’ became a familiar catchphrase. It was a great to have such good company. Happy cycling Neil and Adi!

Crossing the border into Colorado was a joy. It seemed like the wind dropped instantly, the road improved, the wildflowers and the mountains reappeared and the famous Hoosier Pass, beckoned.

Colorado was the icing on the cake. After weeks of climbing hill after hill, the majesty of the top of the Rockies was awesome. The landscape, literally and in our experience, had reached a new level. With every elevation marker we were reminded there was no where in Australia, or Ireland, as high as this.

Before Hoosier, the last and biggest of our climbs at 11542 feet, we thought we’d have a night of luxury and stay in hard roofed accommodation. On the lovely Bruce Moore’s recommendation ( a chap who’d stopped to give us some tips while we mended a tyre) we stayed at the Fireside Inn in Breckenridge. Run by Brits, Niki and Andy Harris, the Fireside Inn was so marvelous we ended up staying three nights!

Breckenridge (Breck to the locals) is a ski town with a soul, high in the mountains. We fell in love with it instantly. This might have had something to do with the 10 miles of delightful rolling bike path leading up to it;) but mostly because the Fireside Inn felt like it was home.

A home decked out with memorabilia from Andy’s Army service and that of his family’s (two Victoria Crosses were mentioned). A home complete with Gaspode the Wonder Dog (and Antigua).

After finally deciding that staying in the ‘sweethearts room’ for another night was going to blow our budget, we reluctantly left Breckenridge on a chilly morning to make the slow climb up Hoosier. The last four miles were tough, one hairpin bend after another, cars snaking past us. And then the top!
Higher than we ever cycled or been before! Hooray! We made it! We’re alive! Joy! It was an emotional moment, we can fully understand Marie’s one footed attack on her bicycle when she reached the summit.

Coming down took on a new meaning. 130 kilometers of downhill in one day seemed to discredit the previous 2 weeks of climbing. In many was it was like getting to the end of a really good book.

Although we were sad to be leaving behind the beautiful Rocky mountains, we were looking forward to a bit of Kansas flatness too!

But we didn’t quite realise just how flat it could get…