Salty Flats

What is west of Salt Lake City? Nothing!

After the most awesome game of Coast ever (Coast is exactly what you imagine it to be) and hopping through Salt Lake City (including an intersection where 20 of us used the crosswalk) we were back onto I-80.

Coast is just one of the games we play on the road. Back in Kansas I passed the time with a clever play on 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. I did all the verses in the song "99 miles of cornfields to go, 99 miles of corn, light it on fire, watch it all burn, 98 miles of cornfields to go..." However, none of these compare to my favorite game: Pull. This is where I pedal up next to someone, usually Carys, and grab the underneath of her saddle, holding on for as long as I'm allowed.

About a week ago, the group stopped for coffee in a cafe in Colorado. Carys and I happened upon the black and white floor of what, I imagine, must have been some kind of restaurant. We threw down our bikes and played a quick game of checkers. As a reward for winning, Carys had to pull me behind her for an entire mile.

The games are important considering the terrain. It seems like the beginning of every ride has a sign that reads "No services for X miles," X being almost exactly the same as the day's projected mileage. This means that we pass nothing along the way. Yesterday's lunch stopped was pushed back a few miles so that we could have it in the town of Knolls. In case you ever consider visiting Knolls, let me tell you what is there: again, nothing. In fact, all Knolls had to offer was one bush to pee behind.

The lunch that day was equally barren. I had spaghetti with potato chips in it. Later that afternoon, we crossed the salt flats. If it hadn't been 95 degrees, I would have thought we were somewhere arctic. It is white as far as the eye can see. Towards the end, the flats turn into shallow lakes. Before the end of the day, we had slipped into the water to make salt angels.