Day 16
   
   5/13/01
   Mile 1679
   Shoshoni, WY
   
   This Mother's Day travelog is dedicated to my mother Minnie, who due
   to her mid-stage Alzheimer's condition, will never know the life that I now
   lead.
   
   Breakfast would not open until 7:30am, so I awoke at 6:30 to get a
   long-overdue shower and do some laundry.  This was probably the
   cleanest campground I had ever seen.  The restrooms required a key code for
   entry, and a notice on the door said that trespassers would be prosecuted.  I
   started eating breakfast, and it was then that I began noticing the
   hidden cameras in strategic locations.  Hmmm...welcome to the Great
   Outdoors of the 21st century.  Oh well.
   
   I stopped a bit to look at the local history.  Ft. Caspar (note the
   spelling difference with the city of Casper) was named after Lt.
   Caspar Collins, who died in a Sioux Indian battle in the mid 1800's. Two
   years afterwards, the fort was abandoned, then burned by the Indians. I've
   been watching the historical markers for the entire trip, and am
   surprised to learn how many businesses, towns, and structures came and
   went with the speed of an Internet stock.
   
   There was a stiff crosswind on the road out of town. It made progress
   agonizingly slow. It was hot, dry, long, and boring. Even the sky was
   boring - a blank blue devoid of clouds.  The endless sagebrush prairie
   all looked the same. I'd pass over a hill, and it would look exactly like
   the last one, and the one before that.  Even the antelope disappeared,
   no doubt from lack of good water supply, for this area is bordered by
   two evil-sounding streams; to the north lies Alkali Creek, and to the
   south runs Poison Creek.
   
   All day the wind blew hard in my face.  There was no relief on
   downhills - even then, you'd still have to pedal to fight the wind.
   The road was busy, noisy, and bumpy, adding to drag and fatigue.  In short, the
   day lacked redeeming qualities.  It was obnoxious, and it just kept
   going.  

   If anyone can tell me why I'm doing this, I'd like to know.  Send me
   your answer of 25 words or less.  All entries will be reviewed by a
   highly qualified panel of judge.  Please don't include the message I
   sent out in your reply, my downloads are slow.
   
   Distances here are great, and supplies sparse. At the tiny town of
   Powder River, which consisted of about 10 buildings, I stopped at the
   gas station. I paid for a soda and asked the owner if there was anyplace I
   could fill my waterbottles, like I'd done a thousand times before.
   
   "Nope" was the flat answer.
   "Really?" I asked, finding that unusual.
   "You'll need to buy the bottled water out of the case over there."
   "Oh...where is the next place to get water headed west?"
   "About 60 miles"
   That didn't sound right.  It had certainly been that far in some other
   places on this trip, but not here.
   "So there's none at the rest stop ahead?" I had already been told
   there was.
   "Uhhhh, there might be a drinking fountain there."
   "And there's none at Hell's Half Acre?"  There was a restaurant at
   that place (which is heavily eroded ground like the South Dakota Badlands),
   so I knew there had to be water.
   "Weelllll, they might have some there."
   
   Hmmm...I see.
   
   I still had one full bottle, easily enough to get to the state rest
   stop, so I got back on the bike and fought the gusts.  It looked like I
   would be seriously late, and I calculated something like 11pm before I
   would get to Shoshone.  I decided I'd go just a bit further and pitch
   the tent.  Well, that's not a good spot there, let's go a bit further.
   And so on.  The wind died down at sunset, so my speed increased and I got
   close enough that I decided to just go all the way, even though it was
   essentially dark.  I staggered into town exhausted, and pitched the
   tent at the first place I came to, the city park.  It was fairly
   warm, and with no visible threat from weather, so I left the tent flap
   open and just used the mosquito netting.
   
   At 2am the automatic sprinkler system popped up and sprayed cold water
   in my face, soaking the inside of the tent.

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