How I hate headwinds. And today was the day of headwinds …

I had an excellent sleep at the motel and in the morning since I only had 100 km to travel I used the opportunity to catch up with my journal and bring the web site up to date. Then it was on my bike over to the local store to get some batteries for my digital camera. It had gone on the blink again and the HP repairman I spoke with on the phone said that I should get new batteries before calling them back. Given that I had already tried two other sets of batteries, I knew that this wasn’t the root of the problem, but it was important to play it their way.

I know I’ve touched upon the marvels of American supermarkets before, but they are a continuing source of amazement. There is a huge array of food—or what passes for food—much of which I marvel that anyone would buy. You are presented with a plethora of choices with every item seeming to have innumerable brands. The problem is that very little of it is even remotely healthy for you. What about the health sections you ask? Yes, they are an option, but only if they exist and then there are slim pickings. In one market which had about 15 aisles, each at least 30 m long, there was about two shelves covering a length of 2 m for health food; and this was devoted in a large measure to speciality jams. It was better in California and hopefully will be so again the further east I go.

I got my batteries and put them in the camera. No go so it was off to a pay phone to chat with HP customer support. They have been most helpful but the problem is that it is an intermittent fault and sure enough by the time I got to the phone booth the camera was working again. We discussed options and then agreed that if it died one more time they would replace it. While I was there a woman UPS driver came over and said how impressed she was with cross-country cyclists like myself, although sometimes she said she wanted to throw us a tow line to give us a hand. I said that was cheating, but the thought has entered my mind more than once and later that day it would enter it continually. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The proprietor of the motel had told me the day before that it was "up and down" to Vernal and he was to be proved correct. Having conquered so many mountains I wasn’t overly worried, although when I hit the road I had reason to rue my confidence. There was a strong 10-20 km/h wind from the NE which just so happened to be the direction I was travelling in. Thus, my ‘easy’ 100 km ride turned into an absolute nightmare since I was to have a strong headwind for the entire way. Ho hum.

So away I went with my head down, teeth gritted and determination in my heart. It was very hard going and I earned every metre of travel. My lips were cracked and dry from the wind, but I at least had enough water, the road was good, I didn’t get a puncture, I had food, and it didn’t rain. On days like this one constantly has to remind oneself what has gone right!

The terrain was rolling and off to the left I could see the mountains which are the Indian reservation. The valley was well irrigated and presented a verdant green contrast to the dry, dusty hills. At least here there were several rivers and streams so it doesn’t appear as though they are busy draining the aquafers as in other parts of the country I have travelled through.

After 30 km I reached the thriving metropolis of Myton. There was a sign saying ‘town centre’ so I followed it in the hope of finding a sheltered café where I could escape from the wind for a while. No such luck. I found a Post Office, Mormon Church, and nothing else. A young boy rode up and asked if I had come from another state by bicycle. He was impressed when I said San Francisco but then asked a profound question: ‘what are you doing in Myton?’. By that stage I wondered the same so I went back to the highway, cycled a few km and had my break sitting on a guard rail by the side of the road. Not exactly sheltered but I felt better after having my banana and energy bar.

From there it was along Highway 40 up a couple of hills and then on into Roosevelt The wind by this stage was in the %$&$% level. There is nothing more disheartening than being on a 4% downgrade peddling like mad and only doing 10 km/h. It is just not fair!!! Roosevelt reminded me of that other wind swept and bereft place Tonepah NV in that there were few trees and it had a dry, barren look. Of course my judgement was probably being affected by the wind. I cycled up into town and found an ATM machine where I got some cash from my Visa card. From there I went to Pizza hut where I had a small Pizza and a large salad bar. They lost money on me! I’ve been surprised how few restaurants have salad bars but when I find one do I ever enjoy it.

As I sat in the restaurant booth in the sunshine watching the trees sway in the wind it took a great deal of determination to head back outside. I had a further 50 km to go and it was not going to be easy. But when the going gets tough, the stupid get going so I strapped on my helmet, put on my jacket and peddled into the wind.

The road went through a fascinating geological area: the Unitah Basin. This is a depression between a long E-W mountain chain and more mountains to the south. Much of it is Indian reservation, although it seems that what little good land there is belongs to others. It was depressing to pass by their failed commercial enterprises by the side of the road and to see the ‘Indian Police’ (who looked to be Europeans) racing about in their cars with sirens blaring. One aspect of the Unitah Basin is that it is riche in petroleum products. They produce over 1 million barrels of oil per year and are the sole source of the mineral (?) Gilsonite.

Gilsonite is a black ‘rock’ which has a very high oil content. It looks like black marble and is very brittle. They use it for an array of purposes including as an additive to asphalt; coating of engine moulds; as a type of pitch; etc. It is really quite versatile and a valuable commodity. Only found in the Basin, I chatted with a fellow who worked as a miner. He said that they have a vein running at a 45 degree angle and they use small 0.75 m jackhammers to loosen it. There is a large suction pipe at the floor level which sucks in all the rock and takes it down to the silo where it is stored. Since it is so brittle by the time it reaches the silo the largest size is that of your fist. I would have loved to have seen this in action.

In some areas there were irrigated farms and they were bailing hay. I saw a fellow putting these bales on the back of a truck. He must have been so strong, he just picked them up and put them on the bed of the truck where two younger boys in their early teens stacked them. It took both of them to manoeuvre the bail into place!

Anyway, I cycled on and on with the rest stops becoming more frequent. It was hard going. The wind would be gusting, but at least it wasn’t from the sides so it wasn’t dangerous. At one stage I cycled down into a valley and was sheltered…temporarily. As I came around the corner doing 20 km/h the wind hit me like a wall and my speed dropped to 8 km/h! Ho hum.

After having such a bad day I thought that things couldn’t get much worse. I was wrong. After about 80 km I hit a grade. It was about 5% but with the headwind felt like a lot more. Down into my lowest gear I began to ascend. And ascend. And ascend. After 7 km it was no longer a joke. After 10 km I lost my temper. By now it was 20:00 and I was tired of this unrelenting wind. However, it was either going to be me or the wind who would win out and I intended that it would be me so with my head down and teeth gritted I pushed on over the summit and down to Vernal.

I was so tired that I decided to try a motel. At $55 I decided on the KOA campground which was still expensive at $17 but at least had very hot showers. I collapsed into my tent just as it started to rain very lightly. My knees were sore but I had made it … And tommorrow was a rest day and Sabbath as well.