Once again, I woke to a deserted camp and packed up. Here's a picture of my campsite. Notice that my tent is wet, but there isn't a cloud in the sky. Thank you, Walden.

I caught up to Bubba and crew in Cowdrey, a town about 10 miles from Walden. Maggie and Bubba had decided to wait until Cowdrey to fill their water bottles. I never understood this logic. Basically, they didn't want to carry the water weight for the 10-mile trip to Cowdrey. In exchange for this minimal weight reduction, they risked not getting water and becoming dehydrated. Seems like a no-brainer to me.

Of course, when they got to the small town, there weren't any stores or services, and they were reduced to going door-to-door, begging for water. I gave some of my water to Iain (I had taken to carrying an extra two quarts of water after Kansas), then said my goodbyes and hit the road, intending to ride about 80 miles and stay in Saratoga.

There were a few climbs, but nothing too challenging, and I was able to enjoy a fairly brisk downhill (max speed: 47 mph). I was also blessed with a brief but powerful tailwind, though I was so caught up in my good fortune that I blew right past the "Welcome to Wyoming" sign and had to double back. As a few of you may have already noted, when you have to turn around and retrace your route, a tailwind becomes a headwind. Way to go, me!

Damn, southern Wyoming looks a whole lot like Kansas.

I spent the day pedaling through prairie, which I always enjoy but most of the other riders complain about. Prairieland doesn't exist east of the Mississippi, so whenever I see it I am reminded of childhood travels out west. It's a mental thing really.

The day warmed up quite a bit, reminding me that Wyoming is mostly desert, but occasional pronghorn sightings kept me entertained as I continued along.

I reached Riverside, where Bubba's troupe was headed, and I felt good enough to continue with my plans to reach Saratoga, 20 miles further. Along the way I ran into Natasha and Jay, to eastbound riders. We chatted about their experiences thus far, which included a head-to-head encounter with a bear in Yellowstone (they turned around and rode away, then a car came and honked at the bear to scare it away). After describing Bubba (not that hard to do -- remember, he's lime green), I gave them Monte's number in Fairplay and hit the road.

I reached Saratoga around 4:00 in the afternoon and found that every single motel room was filled (the last one was rented about 5 seconds before I arrived). Saratoga offers its hot springs free of charge to tourists, and the town was overrun with old people who believe the waters have therapeutic effects. Saratoga no longer allows camping at its city park, so I was basically screwed.

After stopping at a cantina for dinner (I needed the strength to keep pedaling), I hit the road and ending up pedaling another 40 miles to reach Rawlins. This would mark my third-longest day to date -- 109 miles and almost 11 hours on the bike. When I reached Sinclair, a refinery town just short of Rawlins, Allison called me on my cell phone. I stopped near the end of an interstate offramp to answer the phone and it nearly got me killed. About 30 seconds into the call, I heard screeching tires and turned in time to see a car skidding out of control at me. I jumped off the bike and dropped the phone, but then the car regained control and missed my bike by about 3 feet. The driver didn't stop.

So I got up, retrieved my phone and tried to call Allie to let her know I was okay. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a strong signal because of the refinery, so I had to ride for 15 minutes before I could call Allison and let her know I was alive. Exciting, huh?

Here's a nice shot I managed to take despite my fatigued delirium:

I ended up checking into a 1st Choice Inn in Rawlins, completely exhausted and in need of some decent rest.