Day twenty five.

The Great Basin day one. From the shadow of a rock tower to a ditch. 68 miles.

Today we entered Wyoming’s Great Basin, an area hovering around 7,000 feet in elevation and 4,000 square miles. Apparently water that falls on this area doesn’t flow to any ocean, which would make one think that it’s wet, but no. It’s the driest place we’ve been with only a few water sources in our 140 mile journey through it. Also, no vegetation over a foot tall, no shade, no people, and beside the actual road we traveled and one oil field, no sign of civilization. For a 140 miles!

Max, tending to our stove for some morning coffee and oatmeal.

Look closer at this photo. Where’s Waldo?

Aggressive oral hygiene.

Atlantic City, a boom and bust town that was once the second largest city in the Wyoming Territory with 3,000 people in 1865, sits on the edge of the Great Basin. We stocked up on water and food before launch.

This is the view. Never ending roads across a barron landscape. The good gravel and favorable winds made for a really beautiful day of riding.

One person we spoke to who was traveling north and had already been through the Basin said the winds were so strong they broke a tent pole. Another showed us a photo of the dust and sand INSIDE her tent from a dust storm. That in mind, we chose as low a spot as we could find to pitch the tents. Turned out to be a calm, quiet night.

---