Hard to tell in this picture but these were so big we weren't even sure they were deer.
These were empty cattle cars and they went on for over 30 miles. The tagging on them was occasionally impressive but usually lacked city skills. There were a couple I liked:
Not art, but always a great message no matter how it's written.
This one took some time.
We were out of water and starving by the time we reached Sugar City and it's only cafe. Rude service was provided by the first waitress we've met that admits to hating cyclists. :) Wim, the cyclist we saw at the Colorado border, really gave her a hard time and she gave it right back. Since we got there shortly after he left we got the whole story. And we got Mexican food because that's all she would serve us. lol
After eating Mexican food one sure appreciates seeing this on the side of the road! It's an outhouse, put there especially for us cyclists. Apparently there are several of them along the TransAm in CO.
They even put a biker log in it. lol
We signed it and saw that our friends Carole and Dave had been there.
When we got to Ordway we introduced Wim to Carole and Dave. They all stayed at the Hotel Ordway, a hostel for bikers for many, many years. Wim paid far less for his cyclist room than the couple paid for their foo-foo room. Apparently the place was fixed up nice but we didn't get to find out. NO PETS. So after a pleasant conversation about the rude service in Sugar City Ken and I went to check out our other options for places to stay. One of them was a campground, which wasn't a campground at all. It was a parking lot/dump station for RVs, not even any grass, and it was right next to the busy road. So we went to the end of 9th street to investigate staying at a lady's farm. She was from New Zealand and apparently hosts a lot of cyclists in spite of not being on the Adventure Cyclist maps. We were told about her from some eastbounders way back in Missouri so we went to check it out, but in spite of her having lots of animals out there already Simon was a problem and we were not allowed to stay. There was no camping in their city parks either and we had already spent hours riding around this little town looking for a place to lay our heads and we were getting really upset. We'd ridden nearly 70 miles and were so very tired... but we decided to press on instead of staying in a town where we didn't feel very welcome. Silently we pedaled back out onto 96 and headed West once again. And what did we see?
A prison. Right on the TransAm trail. The inmates there could see us pedaling by, pouting about not being able to stay in Ordway and I was suddenly reminded of my freedom and I became instantly grateful for the "problems" we were having. The furrow in my brow relaxed, I breathed deeply, and got into the pedaling groove with a new and improved mood. And then it happened. Ken saw them first, and said, "Look Jen. There are the mountains."
Our first glimpse of the Rockies. Took my breath away and the Ordway Ordeal was truly over in my mind. The sunset was stunning and we continued to pedal through it and into the night.
When the sun had set, the nearly-full moon shined over our left shoulders and we were able to see our way to a little town called Fowler where we stayed in a friendly motel that allowed pets. We ended up with 87 miles.
Downtown Fowler. Accidental art.