I wanted cooler air and I got plenty of it in Wyoming! It felt great to put on boots, long pants and a hoodie.
Like they say, be careful of what you ask for. I got cool air but it was blowing in my face at 20-30 mph.
I made it to Gillette, which is famous not for razor blades but for energy. That's energy with a big E. The town was filled with motels and they were all full. Lots of government cars and oil company vehicles filled the lots which meant this was a town feeding at the government trough and did not bode well for my budget.
I didn't feel like camping in the storm. The vision of me wading to the bathroom in the middle of the night while hail and lightning crashed down around me convinced me to seek warmer shelter.
I bypassed the motels that had a bar next door, hoping for some peace and quiet. (Of course, back in the day that would have been my first choice but time changes everything, even me.)
I eventually found a place where the owner gave me a break. He could see I wasn't a high roller so only hit me for 80 bucks (or about half a tank of gas.) The other places in town were $100-200 a night, he pointed out.
He put me upstairs where I had a window that faced the plains and mountains so I left the curtains open and watched the spectacular lightning show. The storms were really violent and the NOAA kept coming on warning of tornado watches. I hoped my van and bike would be there in the morning.
In the morning the storms had blown past and I checked on the sidecar. It had water in the tub but was otherwise OK. I sopped it up with a towel as best I could figuring the high winds would dry off the rest.
I had to change my plan to continue on I-90 to Seattle because the weather was pretty bad in Montana and northern Idaho, so I called my buddy Larry R. back in Bandon. He's from Wyoming so I asked him how to get home.
His recommended route would drop me back down to I-80 at Rawlins, then onto Highway 30 into Idaho. Off I went into a driving headwind.
As I headed southwest towards Rawlins, I reached over to pick up something on the floor in front of the passenger seat and found it was hot!
I pulled over and looked under the van but didn't see anything unusual. The van's mileage was up over 177,ooo miles at this point and I figured the combination of 18 years of use, headwinds, ethanol fuel and trailer weight was taking a toll on the old 4 speed automatic transmission. I had been driving in Overdrive (or 4th gear if you will) as much as possible and now I noticed it was slipping. It seemed to be OK in Drive so I pushed on. I knew the old war-horse wouldn't let me down.
I stopped a lot to let Brunhilda cool down and got to chat with a few folks along the way. My biggest impression is this is a woking-person's state. And I mean the kind of workers that wear coveralls, have mud on their boots and callouses on their hands. They drive big trucks fitted with mechanical robot-looking attachments and do incomprehensible things out in the wilderness whether it's raining or shining.
It seemed like a tough life around there, but nobody is belly-aching about it. They just do it.
I made it to the aptly named Rock Springs KOA that evening after a grueling drive. The whole campground was gravel and there were trailers parked in every space. Even the Kamping Kabins were full.
In the morning I realized what was up. The whole place got up early and went to work. Then a school bus came through picking up kids. It seems the KOA is full of people who live in trailers. I imagine because they can't afford a house. It looked like there was just a handful of travelers like me.
Next to me a motorcycle pulling a trailer was camped. The trailer opened up and made into a cool tent that had a space in front where you could stand up straight and had the sleeping area under a sloping cover. It looked pretty cool but I wonder how good it would be if you couldn't find level ground?
...more follows...
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