Day 18: Middle of nowhere to near Lima Reservoir - 25 miles
The rain came down in torrents long after the lightening show stopped and it was not until after 11 that it abated enough for us to consider leaving. I spent the time reading and snoozing; it was good to have a bit of a lie in.
Our gear was still damp when we packed it. Fortunately, I have a separate plastic bag for my tent fly but Sean needed to ensure that his was pretty well moisture free before he packed it. I've been really pleased with my small one man tent. This is the second major trip I've done with it and it is just perfect for cycle touring. The fly is large enough that I can have all my panniers under cover; just the thing for a rainy night like we just experienced.
An unfortunate consequence of the weather was that the road had been turned into a muddy quagmire. This had been exaccerbated by the heavy logging trucks which had been driving, albeit very slowly, on the road. This made cycling difficult, and the headwind didn't help things either. It was going to be one of those days where the saying 'that which does not kill you makes you stronger' would ring through my mind.
We set off and soon I began to outdistance Sean. The road conditions often meant having to ride up onto the shoulder, or even off the road, where the grass gave better traction than the road. This was somewhat tiresome, but it did mean that progress could be made. I reached the crest of the first major hill and waited for Sean but he didn't appear. I began to become concerned when, after 10 minutes, there was still no sign so I cycled down the hill to see what was happening. This was quite a sacrifice as it was hard work getting to the top once!
Sean was pushing his bike along having decided that the amount of mud and detritus were such that he ran a risk of damaging the running gear. Like my bike, his brakes were encased in mud as was the running gear. The difference was that I accepted this as the price of making adequate progress.
He was not in a very good mood and said that he was considering heading back to Dillon and trying to catch a bus. Having a more pronounced masochistic gene I had no intention of doing this so I said that I would cycle on and hope to see him hitching a ride with someone. This was not very likely as there had been no traffic in our direction so far in the day. Since Sean was out of water I gave him one of my water bottles but I took the pump in the hope that I could replenish them later on. With that I cycled on.
After about a kilometre I found a stream crossing the road so I stopped for water. Unfortunately, all the rain meant that the water was very silty so I only got one bottle before the filter clogged up. I still had some left in my hydration pack so I wasn't overly worried. I decided to ration myself to one mouthfull every 2.5 miles which meant that I had more than enough for the day's ride.
The cycling was extremely difficult but I made progress towards the mountains. Eventually there was a stream which ran next to to the road and I could see how they had built the road to take advantage of the path of the stream through the mountains ahead. There were dark skies ahead, but fortunately the rain stayed away as it would have made the road even worse.
Eventually I crested the divide, not a continental divide crossing but one worthy of it given the amount of work it took to get there, and then had a series of dowhills and uphills. The uphills were particularly hard since the road was muddier than I had been on, and at times what little momentum I had when travelling downhill was almost immediately sucked away by the muddy surface.
The area was being used for cattle and there were quite a number adjacent to the road. This was in contrast to earlier in the day when the cattle were much sparser. I passed several ranches which looked moderately prosperous. It was interesting to see how at each ranch the sign included the mark they used on the cattle. In Dillon they had made a board walk where the names of the ranches were engraved along with the cattle signs.
I came to the cross road and turned toward Lima Reservoir. If the road I had been on was bad, this one was much worse. At least so far there had been a firm surface under the mud, but not here and I could see how vehicles had skidded and slid their way up the road. At least it was downhill.
The next while was a unique cycling experience. As I travelled down the road the mud sucked at my tyres and it was very difficult making any progress. More than once I came to a dead stop as the bicycle just sank in. The photo below is an attempt at showing this.
Everything became so encased with mud that I had to pick it off with my pocket knife. Eventually, I had to disengage my front brake and remove my front fender since they were just completely jammed. In an attempt at avoiding this, I cycled up through the scrub where possible, but this was difficult since I needed to avoid prairie dog holes (which were huge) and the scrub dragged at my panniers. With a sandy surface it was not that much easier than the road, but at least progress could be made at 4 mph instead of 2 mph on the road, if I was lucky.
In places the road was better but this soon ended and it was a continual hard slog to make progress. Not fun, but just another element of cycle touring. I managed the 10 miles in about 2-3 h and found myself near the reservoir but began to get worried; I could not see the road towards the east end of the reservoir which was our route.
Eventually I stopped at a bluff, I was spinning my wheels in the mud anyway, and I dug out the map to work out what was happening. I then realised that I should not have turned down this route at the intersection and that I needed to go back. Bother. This was the correct route, but not for us since we had gone through Dillon. There was a break in the map which didn't show our Dillon road, but in the end it was my fault for not checking it more closely. It was the second time in the trip I had taken a wrong turn, and both of them have resulted in serious hard work. Oh well, twice in 600+ miles isn't too bad.
At that moment help stepped in through the form of two locals in a pickup truck heading up the road. I conferred with them about the map and they agreed that I needed to go back, and then offered to toss my bike and I in the back to take me at least part way. God is good! I don't know how I would have made it back up without wasting a good half day or more.
Off we zoomed and they slid and skidded their way up the road. At one point I saw this yellow object next to the road - it was Sean! He was sitting with his bike exhausted contemplating his next move. We stopped and put his gear on as well and then continued on. They let us off about 3 miles from the turn off and we thanked them profusely.
I was keen to get back on the route and Sean agreed to give it a go, but after about 0.5 miles he was so far behind that I decided it was best that we stop. There was a stream next to the road and a large verge so that became our camp site. We pitched our tents, ate and then crashed.
Sean has become discouraged and doubts that he can finish the trip. He said that the last two days were the hardest he has ever had. I can empathise, they haven't been easy, but they are just part and parcel of the trials and tribulations that come with cycle touring. One has the exhilration of amazing downhills and great scenary, and the drudgery and hard work which forces one to push on through tiring and difficult times. I guess it's just the combination of highs and lows that come with life...