Day 72: Saratoga, WY to Rawlins, WY

Distance: 41.6 mi, Climbed: 1,096 ft
Completed: 2,803.1 mi, 127,273 ft

I have told Rich many times how much I appreciate that he designed custom Together We Ride jerseys for our trip. They are wonderful conversation starters wherever we go. Time and again, someone notices the jerseys, asks about our ride, and before long we’re sharing stories about Leora, epilepsy, and this cross-country adventure. Today’s ride was another perfect example.

At dinner last night with Holly and John, they mentioned that they had met a fellow cross-country cyclist that afternoon named Andrew. Rich and I ran into him this morning at the gas station while we were stocking up on food and drinks for the day. Andrew is taking a rest day to enjoy the hot springs in town. He was with a Continental Divide Trail (CDT) thru-hiker whose trail name is 79 he had met the night before.

Andrew was especially excited to meet us because he had been seeing our names in sign-in books at lodging stops ever since Kentucky. He had also heard about “the couple riding with the matching jerseys” from a few other cyclists. That made me smile. Rich and I are known on the TransAmerica Trail!

Andrew is from Wisconsin and began his ride in Virginia. He asked about our ride and why we were pedaling to raise awareness of epilepsy. We enjoyed hearing about the freedom he has found living life on the road and the friendships he has made along the way.

His new friend, 79, had quite a story to tell. This is his first major thru-hike, and while crossing Colorado’s San Juan Mountains, 79 became caught in a severe storm. As hypothermia began setting in, he grew disoriented and started to panic. Suddenly, he noticed a man standing nearby offering him a cup of coffee. The stranger’s reassuring presence helped him remain calm and focused until he reached safety. Only later did he learn about the well-documented “Third Man Syndrome,” in which people under extreme physical stress sometimes experience the comforting presence of someone who isn’t actually there. Whether it can be explained through psychology or something more, it was a remarkable story.

Today’s route was very straightforward. We ride about twenty miles north on Wyoming Highway 130, stop at a gas station to restock our food and drinks, continue thirteen miles west on Interstate 80 to Sinclair, and then finish the day on Wyoming Highway 76 into Rawlins. Yes…that I-80 — the one that stretches all the way from New Jersey to San Francisco. Bicycles are generally not allowed on interstates. Apparently, there are exceptions. If Doug hadn’t warned us three days ago that the TransAmerica Trail uses the interstate for a short stretch, Rich and I never would have believed it.

It was also going to be another hot day. We got out early to stay ahead of the worst of the heat, but there was very little shade along today’s route.

Fortunately, Wyoming provided plenty to admire instead. As we headed north, the jagged, glacier-carved peaks of the Snowy Range rose in the distance.

Before the sun climbed too high in the sky, Rich and I were happy to pull over for a few minutes and enjoy the welcome shade cast by a large hillside. Even a brief break from the direct sun was truly appreciated.

Around the midpoint of our ride, we stopped at a convenience store for chocolate milk and ice cream before continuing on. Then we saw it — the sign for Interstate 80.

For the next thirteen miles, our TransAmerica route shared the interstate. With traffic moving at 75 miles per hour and tractor-trailers flying past, many thanks to Wyoming for providing a wide shoulder. Though we felt comfortable riding, there was still something surreal about pedaling bicycles on one of America’s major interstate highways.

Sometimes beautiful moments appear where least expected. While riding along Interstate 80, I looked off to the side and noticed a bridge reflected in the still water below. It was hard to reconcile that peaceful scene with the steady stream of massive trucks racing by on the highway.

It made us especially happy to see the exit for Sinclair appear in the distance. Goodbye, I-80!

Just off the exit was a Stinker Stores convenience store and Sinclair gas station. Stinker Stores, known for its skunk mascot Polecat Pete, serves as a popular stop for truckers traveling along I-80. We’re not often at truck stops, so seeing the free showers offered to customers purchasing 75 gallons of fuel at a time was a reminder of just how much effort goes into keeping America’s economy literally moving. The truck drivers who spend countless hours on these highways play such an important role in transporting the goods we all depend on every day.

Not far beyond the truck stop, the landscape changed again. After days of riding through ranchland and open country, we suddenly found ourselves alongside the enormous Sinclair Wyoming Refinery. Tanker trucks rolled in and out carrying gasoline and asphalt, while long lines of Union Pacific tank cars and hopper cars stood ready to move petroleum products across the country. It was an impressive reminder that Wyoming’s economy is shaped not only by ranching but also by energy production.

Another sight in Sinclair also caught our attention—the historic Parco Inn. Built during the 1920s when the refinery community was known as Parco (Producers And Refiners Corporation), this beautifully restored building stands as a reminder of Wyoming’s early oil boom. It was easy to imagine travelers stopping there a century ago as automobiles made long-distance travel more common across the West. During the Great Depression, the original oil company went bankrupt, and oil tycoon Harry Sinclair’s company acquired the refinery and the surrounding community in 1934. In 1942, residents voted to rename the community Sinclair in honor of the new company. It’s not often that a place’s very name tells the story of the industry that built it.

As we continued toward Rawlins, the interstate eventually gave way to quieter roads once again. Even as the city came into view, there was one final reminder that this is still very much cattle country. Before entering town, we crossed a cattle guard built into the roadway—those metal grates that allow vehicles and bicycles to pass while discouraging livestock from going where they shouldn’t. It felt fitting that after sharing the road with speeding trucks on the interstate, our final obstacle before town was something designed with cows in mind.

By the time we reached Rawlins, we were more than ready to cool off. Our first stop was Subway, where the air conditioning felt as refreshing as the sandwiches. That’s where we met Grayson, a Continental Divide Trail thru-hiker. Originally from Arkansas, Grayson had spent three years living in Breckenridge, Colorado, working as a bicycle mechanic after several years as an automobile mechanic. Today, he puts his mechanical engineering background to work as a programmer, writing code for the large yellow robotic machines used in manufacturing plants.

Our conversation turned to the rapid growth of automation and artificial intelligence. Grayson spoke thoughtfully about the ethical questions that come with developing technology that increases efficiency while also replacing jobs traditionally performed by people. It was an interesting discussion and one more reminder that some of the most memorable parts of this journey happen when we simply stop and talk with the people we meet.

As we pedaled to our hotel, I couldn’t help but think that the riding remains the heart of this journey—the open road stretching ahead, the constantly changing scenery, the feeling of moving across the country under our own power, and the satisfaction that comes with each mile. Yet the people we meet along the way add a dimension to this adventure that we never could have imagined. Days like today capture what makes this trip so special: the joy of riding, the beauty of the places we pass through, and the unexpected connections that make the memories last.