Day 13 –Mile 228 Rest Area I-80, WY to Loveland, CO, 173.5 miles

Fog. I awoke late, around 6:30am. I had wanted to be on the road by 6 to guarantee my arrival in Colorado on time. I spoke with Brian the night before and he had class until 9pm so I had plenty of time to make my way deep into CO country. I collected my things and noticed I had a flat on the front. By now I was thankful that it wasn’t on the back since I wouldn’t have to take everything off the back to access the rear wheel. I rolled the bike over to the main building to change it in a warm room and noted that there was a lot of wire sticking through the tire. I surmised that the bits of tire shredded across the interstate highway were responsible. So, for all the interstate cyclists out there, the tire treads should be avoided at all cost.
Since I slept in my kit and was quick to change the tire, I was on the road by 7am. One of the visitors by car at the rest area was complaining to me about the visibility and how he didn’t feel safe on the road. He wanted the fog to clear before heading west. I was just prepared for more rain so I headed towards the interstate.
I was out of the fog by the first hill and into the sunshine and it was just 7 miles to the exit for US-287. The traffic on I-80 was unusually skewed to truck traffic, which is fine, they gave me a lot of room even though it was unnecessary. For every 1 car there must have been 5 trucks. The ratio also set the environment ripe for trucker bombs. They seemed to populate the tops of hills, I guess the trucker could concentrate more on personal matters when going slowly up a hill rather than cruising in other sections of the highway. I even saw a variant of the species in a zip lock bag. A methhead’s form of liquid gold I presume. Google “Trucker Bomb Meth” if you’re curious.
I exited for US-287 and headed towards Medicine Bow, my original stopping “happy point” yesterday evening. I made it about 500 feet down the road before an electronic sign indicated the road was closed due to flooding. What kind of flooding was it? Couldn’t I just walk my bike across? Knowing what I’ve encountered before, flooding in the west is a deluge compared to what I encounter in North Carolina and the road probably doesn’t exist anymore. Reluctantly I turned and headed back out on I-80 for another 80 or so miles to Laramie.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought. The roads were lovely except for the tire wire landmines. Traffic was light and no one seemed to mind my presence. I probably represent someone’s day on the interstate on another blog somewhere: “Check out this crazy cyclist on the interstate, is this legal?” I also wondered how long I would go before an inquisitive trooper would make a stop to ask why all the other roads in Wyoming weren’t of use to me. Fortunately, some road workers allayed my fears and also told me around 9pm last night the river flooded US-287 and took out the bridge. I’m glad I wasn’t on the road then despite my best desires to beat the rain last night!
The road to Laramie was uneventful and the weather was splendid. I did catch another flat on the rear due to the tire wire but I needed a rest anyways. I-80, when looking at a topography map, has a curious layout, the road is draped over the foothills of the Medicine Bow Mountains. I was constantly going up and down over the mountains where if the engineers placed the interstate just another couple miles north the road would have been mostly flat. It was as if Wyoming wanted to make it difficult for the truckers. Fortunately, the wind was at my back and I was in Laramie by 1pm. My arrival in Denver on time was looking very good. I stopped at McDonald’s to feed my illusions of cheeseburgers (something that develops at around the 100 mile mark) and also to check the weather since the typical storm clouds were brewing to the south.
US-287 rejoins I-80 at Laramie so I was back on the original track and ahead of schedule. It is 10 miles less on I-80 than US-287. I headed south knowing storms were strafing the area. The wind was a lovely 15-20 mph on my back and it was an effortless cruise at 20 mph. I was chasing the tail end of a storm so I wasn't pushing too hard. It was 23 miles to the CO border, a psychological barrier in my mind I think because for the next hour I was reminiscing of the past 2 week’s memories and events. Mt. Ranier, Yakima valley, US-12, Montana, Yellowstone, Teton, flat tires, etc… There was a nice little hill to crest before heading into Colorado, and the resulting downhill and wind into the lovely state of mind hurdled me at 45 mph for several miles. A lovely day!
Finally, in Colorful Colorado! But, as all good things come to an end, the wind changed direction and blew into my face. I could manage 15 mph downhill, which it seemed most of the road was downhill. I noticed a change in the scenery: trees… and smog. I could barely see the horizon. I was kind of sad, I had taken for granted the clear air of the previous states. It seemed the wind was blowing the dirt straight towards me. I felt like I had when I looked out of the window of an airplane, you can tell when you’re close to a major city when you start to enter the brown blanket that surrounds it 30 miles out.

Sage brush gave way to pink granite and sandstones while misty mountains resembling an Irish countryside bordered the western horizon.
Soapbox: US-287 around the Laporte area is awful – the wide shoulder is mauled by perpendicular rumblestrips that straddle the entire shoulder and sometimes even into the travel lane, forcing me out into a understandably very angry 70-80 mph traffic. It was a hairy ride after 120 miles on the legs.
I arrived in Fort Collins around 6pm, it was a sort of paradise with all the cycling lanes and the many people who were using them for commuting home or exercise. I headed down Shields Street soaking in the sun and thinking about a warm place to lounge… The Denver area has a curious layout, the houses seemed to crowd small areas penned in by fences like the tumbleweeds did in Wyoming while all around were wide open spaces. There weren’t a lot of trees to block the wind which came very strong from the south. The few trees that did exist bent easily against the force of the wind. Just like my will to pedal against it after 150 miles!
I made it to Loveland and I got the call from Brian, he would pick me up at exit 225 off of I-25. I didn’t really know where I was going once I got to the Denver area so I now had a destination. It was around 8:00, I had been on the bike for around 12 hours... I was picked up like a rag doll on the roadside, sitting in a car was surreal and all the pains of the road became noticeable. It seemed the wind dulled the pain while I was riding. We went to a bar with friends and it became difficult for me to be social. A couple weeks of riding and poor diet had finally ripped through my intestines and liquefied everything. The next few days would truly be recovery. Brian’s wedding is Saturday though so I would have to pull myself together.

Special thanks to all the truckers on the road who shared their interstate with me and didn't attempt to hit me with their infamous bombs.