Rock Springs is a coal town that ended up on the world's busiest east-west railroad, and it has the odd mix of origins you would expect. The Union Pacific arrived in the late 1860s, the mines dug into the surrounding desert, and workers came from dozens of countries, which is why the town's old tales mention such a long list of nationalities. It also has a darker chapter: in 1885 white miners attacked their Chinese coworkers in a massacre that is remembered in local history, and the place does not hide from it.
The country around the town is high desert, roughly nineteen hundred metres up, a landscape of sagebrush, buttes and big pale cliffs that feels enormous even by Wyoming standards. The Red Desert to the north is one of the largest unfenced areas left in the lower forty-eight, and it holds a herd of wild horses along with the Killpecker Sand Dunes, among the largest active dunes in North America. A loop on the White Mountain road to the north takes you past wild horses with a fair chance of seeing them on a quiet morning. Rain is scarce and sunshine reliable, though the wind is something else and can be fierce across the Interstate and the open highways. Crosswinds on a loaded bike deserve respect. Winter turns the highway into a closed-road gamble, so ride from late spring to early autumn.
Rock Springs is large enough to have everything: fuel, motels, supermarkets, motorcycle-friendly diners and a historic district with brick buildings from the boom years. It is the sensible place to sort out gear before you head south toward Flaming Gorge, where the road leaves the interstate hum behind and begins to climb through sagebrush and then, at last, pine.
Green River lies about twenty-three kilometres west, and between them they make a good pair, one big and busy, the other quieter and tied to the river. Fill up here, eat well, and use the open desert light in the evening to plan tomorrow's climb into the Gorge country.