West Wyoming
23 April 2024
The bloody bike wouldn’t start properly again this morning. Same symptoms but the phone charging system was probably a Red Herring. So I plugged it in again and now this failed almost immediately…
It’s now disconnected completely so let’s see how I fair tomorrow. I’m glad I didn’t cancel the booking with Foothills Motorcycles, the BMW main agent in Denver prematurely. This has all the hallmarks of a simple fix once the problem is identified but finding it is a needle-in-a-haystack quest of diagnosis-by-elimination.
Maddening but the net-net is I’m not overly concerned about it as I know it will start eventually. So I stick to the original plan of taking a look at the Grand Tetons from US89 that runs north, to the east of them, rather than plotting the shortest route to Denver.
And what a sight they are. If anyone knows of a more perfect range, do let me know. Lit by the bright morning sunshine from the east and framed by an impossibly blue sky, I stop no less than six times in the thirty miles to take photographs as the spectacle, improbably, keeps getting more impressive.
From here the route wheels east, cutting between Needle Mountain and the Frances and Gannett Peaks, climbing up to 9,500 feet with the temperature dropping accordingly. The road has enough variation in it to qualify as a proper ride but not enough to prevent taking in the vistas that are nothing short of magnificent. Eventually, it turns south to the town of Dubois and brunch.
Finally, the mountains give way to huge, rolling hills and then prairie and desert. Ghoulishly, I was expecting something a bit bleaker than the opulence of Jackson and the ethereal beauty of all the other faces of this state that I’ve seen.
But that’s probably because I’ve got in mind the line from 'Nebraska’, the Springsteen song from the hard-as-nails, Lo-Fi classic album of the same name. Here the ‘Badlands of Wyoming’ are referenced as where real-life serial killer, Charles Starkweather journeyed through in 1959 with a sawed-off .410 on his lap, killing everything in his path.
Only the section of Wyoming I travel through that is the Wind River Indian Reservation looks a bit sketchy. This is scarcely a surprise by now as the difference between Federal government-governed land and that administered by the indigenous people is always night and day.
278 miles later, I roll into Rock Springs and the Super 8 Motel is just fine and only $55 for the night. There’s a Walmart within walking distance: this is handy as I’ve run short of a few essentials.
TripAdvisors’ #1 Restaurant in Rock Springs is Bonsai, Japanese (or Chinese, if you prefer as both cuisines are on the menu), and a mere 400 yards away. For under $50 and including drinks, I have a generous selection of excellent sushi, a salad, Miso Soup and beef Teriyaki. All good, fairly healthy stuff and the basis of an early night as I have about 350 miles to cover tomorrow.
Today has been simple, uneventful but good and what motorcycling touring is all about.
24 April 2024
I’m woken at 04:19 by Natwest calling about suspected fraud on my account. This is the second time this has happened. I’m down to a single credit card as the first one has been cancelled. It’s been replaced but no hotel will agree to keep it for me if I get it sent ahead. Irritatingly, for such a large institution, Natwest have no arrangement with any US banking networks to help customers in my situation.
The suspected transaction does indeed look like attempted fraud. I paid a bill at the Murray Bar in Livingston for £41.47 a few days ago. But another transaction for £26.24 has appeared on my account. I explain I was indeed in the Murray but it looks like my card has been swiped twice, once without my consent.
Good spot, Natwest, please go ahead and decline the transaction. No, they say, as you handed your card over, you need to take it up directly with the establishment, now a 1,000 miles away…
I try reasoning with this computer-says-no lackey: “What is the effing point of these systems? YOU call ME, suspecting fraud and I confirm it as such. So you say, ‘Fair enough, we’ll pay the merchant anyway and dump the problem back on you to get your money back’. This is absurd, I’m your customer, not the effing Murray Hotel. Just reverse the transaction and explain why.”
There are, apparently, no circumstances where a transaction can be reversed, other than by the merchant, when you have handed your card over. Mastercard & Visa scheme rules say so…
Next time you hear some Bank Womble in the media bleating about increases in fraud, remember this tale. Honestly, only a bank or government would agree to a protocol quite as stupid as this. I tell her bluntly: “I don’t believe you. You need to try harder to fix this.” But that’s her final word.
After being ever-so diplomatic, I eventually lose my temper, and slam the phone down after a final, vengeful, potty-mouthed outburst. I know, I know, rules is rules and she has no authority to change them. But it was her high-handed attitude, refusal to provide any pragmatic advice and constant talking-over that earned her the richly deserved abuse.
Seriously, I need to look at getting an American Express card as I know they can replace cards, wherever you are in the world. I’ve had this fraud perpetrated on me multiple times now and always when travelling. Hopefully, Amex take the customers’s side in a dispute when the merchant is clearly in the wrong. I shall find out…
Credit card fraud for a second time, the bike problem, the jacket failing, one pair of boots leaking and one of the others has a broken zip. My helmet headset failed yesterday also meaning no audiobooks, no music or navigation instructions.. The minor irritations are mounting up.
Anyhow… On to more important matters. Has anyone heard of the Flaming Gorge or the Scenic Byway, reservoir and dam that share the name?
Nope. Me neither but I find myself on US191, a monstrously good road at 09:00 that runs the length of. I share it with precisely five other vehicles for the 75 miles or so to the border with Utah. It ends with this spectacular view over a vast lake near the improbably named town of Dutch John.
It’s only when I check back later to see where I’ve been do a realise that this is little more than a puddle. The reservoir is a good twenty-times the size. Look on Google Maps yourself if you don’t believe me.
US191 is yet another stretch that would be fabled in Europe; bikers would travel far and wide to ride it. Here, you really don’t need to plan routes. Just program your SatNav with your final destination and you’ll usually end up on something memorable with spectacular views.
