Crossing the Great Basin, a hundred-plus stretch of alto-plano featuring sage, far-off views of the Wind River mountain range, pronghorn antelope, rabbits and more sage, had only two dependable water sources, both within the first 26 miles. It was the first time I’d gone more than 3 or 4 hours without seeing some vehicle on these remote roads chosen for the Great Divide route. As it was, I cycled about 10 or 12 hours altogether before several motorcycles entered the Great Basin from the southern end.
Having already cycled some 90+ miles of similar dry and vacant terrain, I thought Atlantic City the correct spot to rest and overnight. After a long and leisurely burger and fries, followed by a humungous ice cream sundae, I had secured permission to bunk in the giant indian teepee. The only problem as I departed the bar was the lady owner, who’d granted permission to stay, mentioned, “I’m sure the Saturday night noise of the bar won’t bother a tired rider.” (The teepee was erected directly in front of the Grubstake Bar and Restaurant.) The weather was warm, the winds very light and the sun was still high in the sky, so I left Atlantic city about 7:00 PM after checking the map, thinking I could get a head start on the Great Basin.
Since I’d been cycling solo, I’d started listening to audio books (finished 4 and I’m still on the fifth – an 800-page Pulitzer prize-winner called The Goldfinch) which combined with the waning light and empty road of that early evening, made the ride new and almost refreshing. It wasn’t until I stopped to don a head-lamp about 10 PM that I realized I’d probably done enough for the day and should stop and camp for the night.
The map showed a wetland spring at the 26-mile mark and the last water for the Basin, so I thought I should keep an eye out for its landmarks. The text of the map said something about “cross over the stile to access the spring” and I hadn’t seen a fence line for hours so I thought maybe I’d missed it. (One thing I should mention is that I don’t have an odometer on the bike and because of that many of the turns and map instructions I’ve had to suss-out in other ways or flat out miss.)
The sage was so thick right up to the road-bed that I wondered where I could set up a tent, when I came across a small side road. I circled around to check out the possibility of camping directly on the side road and saw in the distance a reflection of a sign post or something luminous 150 yards down that small slightly used two-track road. Curious as to what could be reflective at that point in the desert and wanting to know what I might be camping in front of, I cycled down to find the Digneous Well, the same fenced-in spring I’d been looking for. Amazing.
It was a good thing I’d knocked some miles off the Great Basin the night before because even with an entrancing book to listen to, the next day the miles and empty road went on and on and on. As it was, I barely got into a campground in Rawlins (having stopped to eat & shop for provisions) before the campground locked up the showers at 9 PM.
