The Finish Line
Thurs May 15: Fort Morgan - Broomfield CO: 84 miles; mostly- to partly-cloudy, high 60?; 9:50-5:05.The Big Question remained: could I break my end-of-trip jinx? In four of my previous tours (including the last three), various things have kept me from riding all the slated miles on the last day - weather, schedule, flats, injuries. Today, I faced an iffy weather forecast, with over 80 miles slated - including a dreaded stretch along I-76. Sue and my folks had both offered to pick me up, giving me an out.
I tried to ignore it all. The day started well when the waiter at breakfast asked about my tour, wishing me well. My morning talk at Trinity Lutheran School kept up the good karma, even with a misbehaving DVD. I extemporized, and mentioned the haunted health resort we passed on the walk. Of course that fascinated them, and when I opened it to their questions, every 4th or 5th query referred back to that: "Do you see any ghosts? Do you think it was REALLY haunted?"
After an hour, the teachers shooed them back to their classrooms, but not before a few asked for my autograph. To be fair to the others, two teachers then invited me into their classrooms to sign autographs for the rest. One girl reciprocated by handing me her sheet of math homework. Squeezed between the 2+2=4 & 6+6=12, she'd written, "Glenn rocks".
Then I hit the highway. I soon discovered the dangers of Google Maps, as one road abruptly ended, forcing a 3/4-mile backtrack and a stint on gravel. When another proposed turn would have put me on a gravel frontage road, I rethought that route.
The first hour-and-a-third went slowly to Wiggins, as a sidewind and rolling hills kept my speed to 12.6 mph average. Then came the stretch I'd worried over, 10.4 miles on the interstate.
Isn't deja vu nice? In 1994 we'd fretted over the same stretch of road, but it had turned into a delightful day. The road curved a bit southward, putting the wind slightly at my back. (My average on the road for the rest of the day was 14.6.) With the smooth going and the iffy Google directions, I stayed on the highway for another three exits, over 27 miles before finding a frontage road I trusted.
The predicted storms happened, of course, but they were scattered. I could see cloudbursts to the south, to the north, and ahead of me. Three times I rode over wet pavement. When the sun hid behind the clouds, the wind chilled me, but when the sun came out (more and more as the day wore on), I couldn't have hoped for better riding conditions.
Rather than tiring me out, every mile under my wheels energized me. When I hit 144th Ave and turned west to leave the frontage roads behind, I could almost smell the finish. Every milepost I reached, every new road I turned on, elicited a hearty "YES!"
When I hit Thornton at mile 71, where I could catch some of my favorite trails the rest of the way home, I tasted the victory. Not even a leaking front tire dampened my spirits; I pumped it back up at mile 73, and the goop inside plugged the leak. Sprinkles ten minutes later forced me to don my rain jacket, but it stopped in only five minutes.
The sun came out in full force by the time I hit Broomfield, so I shucked both jackets for the last five miles - only the fourth time this cold-weather trip I had done so. Minutes past 5:00, I rolled exuberantly up Bellaire Ct, and pronounced the finish - and the trip - a true winner.
The Trip Hangs in the Balance
Wed May 14: Sterling - Ft. Morgan CO: 48 miles; scattered clouds, 73 at 3:30; 9:35-3:20.The best one can hope for is to finish a trip on a high note, making it easier to consider another trip in the future. I haven't always reached that goal, and last night's debacle threatened to taint my last week.
Today took care of it: a headwind that kept my speed to 12.5 mph, the trip's second flat - and people that make trips like this so memorable.
The day got rolling at Smith Alternative High School. The small facility catered to kids overwhelmed by the large, mainstream high school, such as the student who'd just moved from Julesburg (where the class sizes run 2-10 students per class). the kids listened attentively, and several came up afterwards to thank me for my visit.
Sharon Norton (my teacher contact) and a few students urged me to stop in Merino on my way south to see the woodcarver. It took a long hour to bike there, but would have been worth a detour. I pulled onto the short main street and asked a man in a blue workman's pullover, "Can you direct me to the woodcarver's studio?"
"That would be me! It's right in here." Brandon Rhea led me into his workplace, quite the contrast from the nondescript facade outside. Colorful parrots, bronze busts, calliope horses, and more filled the first room. The second room hosted his most recent efforts. "I've always wanted to carve marble, so when I had the chance to get a couple of 30,000 pound blocks from Marble, CO, I jumped at the chance." He'd already carved one block into a jumble of winged angels, while the second block had just begun taking shape.
The back room contained one of his latest sculptures, a whimsical bronze statue based on a poem, The Dream Keeper. "Sometimes, though, my favorite pieces are works I do for my kid for school projects. This, for instance - they were studying sea life, so we made it out of recycled materials." He pointed to a turtle made of cardboard, floating among computer-paper-and-weed seaweeds, above a tin-foil sea bottom.
We talked about finding your calling, your niche in life - and about inspiring our next generation. "Sometimes you may not know you've instilled that spark," he reflected. "But years later, they may act on that seed you've sown. You'll likely never hear about it. You just have to trust that it will happen."
Before heading out, I gave him a copy of
WOW! What a Ride. He thanked me sincerely, then looked more closely at the cover. "Ohmigosh! You ran with the Olympic torch! I ran with it when it came through Sterling!"
I next stopped at the cafe next door for a hot buttered blueberry muffin. One customer came up to ask about my trip, and the waitress and the other patrons in the cafe all wished me well.
My speed improved marginally as I headed to Brush for lunch. As I rolled up to the first cafe I spotted, I felt the familiar - and dreaded - thumps that indicated a rear flat. First things first, and that meant eating. When I finished, I asked the waitress if Brush had a bike shop, since fixing the flat would take my last spare. She asked someone else, who said no, but Fort Morgan (my final destination, ten miles distant) did. I thanked her for the information.
A moment later, I heard a slight commotion behind me. "Telling him it's in Fort Morgan doesn't help if he can't get there," I heard someone say. The next moment the speaker appeared at my table, asking if I needed help. Just a flat, I explained, telling him I shouldn't have a problem fixing it and making the next town.
Once in Fort Morgan, I first stopped at the newspaper offices. I remembered the building from our stop there in 1994, when I had to bully the paper into covering our walk. (Don't ask.) Next stop: the bike shop to top off the air in my tire. When I introduced myself, the shop owner said, "Ah! this must be you."
He handed me a flyer the library had crafted - a photo of an undulating road winding through a verdant forest, with a pink bikini photo-shopped onto the road's shoulder. "I'll be there tonight to see you!"
The library beckoned next, where I introduced myself to Kathy and Lanny (who'd designed the flyer). Besides the flyer, they had my books perched on top of a display case containing a diorama of a mountain scene with two cardboard bicycles on a road with miniature litter scattered about.
My final library talk went well, despite DVD problems. Ten people enjoyed my tales of the road, both by foot and bike. The library provided refreshments afterwards, while a few attendees checked out my laden bike.
And a final chuckle, especially for people who own cats. At the motel, the owner's cat resembled one of my own, with it's black coat and white belly, nose, and paws. When I asked its name, the clerk replied, "Diablo Retardo."
Magic Moments Trump Debacles
Tues May 13: Jules burg to Sterling CO: 59 miles; high 50s, cloudy then sunny late; 11:00-4:00.I pulled into Sedgwick at noon, eager for a hot lunch and chance to warm up after an hour of chilly (52 degrees) riding under cloudy skies. The two-block downtown looked abandoned, with large handpainted signs on the different buildings stating they year they'd been built. When I saw a Coors Light neon sign lit in one window, I rolled my bike over to see if they served food.
As I dismounted, a man from a block away called out, "Hey! If you want a place to warm up, I've got a heater!" When I asked if the cafe was open, he shook his head.
I rolled over to talk to him without shouting. "How far is the next town where I can grab some lunch?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Crook is fifteen miles away, but I don't know if anything is open there. What are you looking for?"
"A burger, a sandwich, anything to get me a few miles further down the road."
He didn't hesitate. "How about some beef stew? It's homemade! C'mon, my sister owns the place across the street," he said, pointing to the Antique Inn.
He led me into the town's B&B. Elegant! and a stark contrast to the decaying town outside. Victorian furniture crowded around a fireplace in the main room; another was set up with dining tables for receptions, weddings, graduations, or what not. Upstairs, as he showed me later, were the antique-adorned bedrooms.
Into the kitchen we went, where a large pot of homemade stew sat coming up to room temperature. "Here's a bowl. Fill up as much as you want, and I'll heat it up. Open the frig and grab yourself some bread, butter, cream cheese, cucumbers - whatever you want. No one goes hungry here! And it's on the house."
He introduced himself as Rudy, down from Ogallala NE to help his sister with renovations. We chatted as I fueled my stomach with food and my spirits with his hospitality.
That served as the day's high point. The other two 'towns' along the road offered even less than Sedgwick, and the road carried little traffic - in one half hour, only ten cars passed me.
The morning's magic moment, along with three interesting talks at Julesburg High (where I forsook litter-vangelism to talk about book publishing and Africa), helped me weather the debacle that evening. Somehow the library confused the dates and advertised that I would speak there
tomorrow night. Once I corrected her this morning, they put up a a small sign by the checkout desk of the change. Then, when I arrived with my night's hosts (who eagerly awaited seeing my talk), the librarian on duty couldn't find the key to unlock the cabinet with the DVD player, so she walked out without telling us she'd given up.
After waiting until 7:15 in the vain hope that someone else might show, Don and Bonnie Hooper took me back to the house, where I gave them a private presentation. Not what I'd planned, but still a pleasant evening after the embarrassment at the library.
NOTE: my TV appearance in Sioux City has made it to the web. To view it, visit
http://www.ktiv.com/News/index.php?ID=25129 , and click on the red movie camera icon above the picture to see the video clip.
Not the Only Biker Dude
Mon May 12: North Platte NE to Julesburg CO: 83 miles; sunny, side- or tail-wind, 73; 8:40 CDT-3:30 MDT.Early in the day I passed another cyclist heading west on US30. He had no load, just a local out for a day ride. An hour late, a different tale unfolded.
As I rolled along after my second stop, I saw the biker approach from the west. As he neared, I noticed his recumbent bike overloaded with panniers, so I crossed the highway for a chat. Sid had started in southern California weeks ago, and had endured windstorms and hail on his way across Arizona and New Mexico. He had retired from law enforcement (though he did consulting work from libraries along the way), and was enjoying his first bike tour ever. He aimed for Minnesota and the Upper Peninsula before heading south through Michigan.
'Twas a nice day to ride - for the most part, I enjoyed a tailwind. The first half hour after lunch, I averaged 19.5 mph! At one point, the road left the river, climbing for five miles through the sand hills, followed by a 39 mph descent back to the South Platte. With the time change, I gained an extra hour, getting me into Julesburg early enough (3:30) to stop at the school and meet my night's host.
Chris and Marina Draney continued the long line of wonderful folks who put me up (or put up with me?). Chris and I traded stories of adventures, and talked about kayak trips on rivers (he'd built his own 18-foot kayak). The conversations got me dreaming about trying to do a water-based spring tour...
Bicyclist Mind Games
Sun May 11: Lexington to North Platte NE: 58 miles; sunny, mid-60s; 10:25-3:35.Angela had asked me what I think about while rolling through the miles. The best answer (not counting the times I simply blank out the mind) is to play mind games. Games such as:
- Mr. Friendly. Wave to all the cars heading east, to demonstrate how nice bicyclists are. Moo at all the cows you pass.
- Watch the Wildlife. Focus on the red-wing blackbirds fluttering beside the road. Listen to the frogs croaking their happy little hearts out, blissful in culverts and low-lying fields flooded by yesterday's rains.
- Score the Scenery. It wasn't a 10 by any wild stretch of imagination - but I'd swapped a pancake-flat landscape for a sampling of sandhills. At first it provided a backdrop of an undulating horizon, but soon the hills crowded against the road. For a while, trees also dotted both sides of the road.
- Count the Cars. Not on the road, the ones on the coal or freight trains that rumble by every few minutes. (I counted two in a row that had 126 coal cars and three locomotives; a few minutes later I beat that by 8 cars.) You get tons of bonus points if you can count the cars in both an east- and west- bound train as they pass each other!
- History Channel. Stop and read all the roadside historical monuments that you pass by. I never dreamed that one day I would visit the spot that Chief Turkey Leg (how's that for a name to instill fear in your enemies?) and his band of Cheyennes wrecked a Union Pacific train, riding away with bolts of calico tied to their ponies' tails?
- Are We There Yet? Keep a watch out for the water town or grain elevator of the next town. Once sighted, guess how long it will be before you actually reach it. A related game is How Much Higher?, where you calculate how much more elevation you need to gain to reach the Mile-High City. For this, you must find an elevation sign - such as "Cozad Airport, 2502' Elevation".
Yes, it was a wonderful day, especially compared to yesterday - sunny, light breeze to the side, mid y60s. I'll miss days like this next week. When I reached North Platte, Evan gave me a wonderful reception, arranging a convenient motel then treating me to dinner. Thanks!
Talking about meeting characters - I forgot to mention Bob ARp's adventurous youth. In high school, he had a friend with leukemia. To raise funds for his treatment, he and friends organized an around-the-clock marathon, dribbling a basketball across Nebraska. They split into three shifts: 8 hours dribbling, 8 sleeping, 8 raising funds. When they reached the Missouri River, the friend shot and made a basket.
Times That Try Bikers' Souls
Sat May 10: Grand Island to Overton NE: 64 miles; rain and wind, 50 at 12:30; 9:15-3:30.I set a new record today! Taken as a whole, today was the worst day for cycling I've seen in any of my numerous tours. 54 degrees with a steady rain at the start, it dropped to 50 degrees by noon. The hardest rain was in the first hour, but it mostly kept up.
The rain grew more intermitten after lunch, but conditions grew worse. Between Grand Island and Kearney, a slight tail wind allowed me to again average over 16 mph. After lunch, though, the wind shifted slightly into my face and grew in strength (the Weather Channel mentioned a Wind Advisory beginning at 2:00). My speed dropped to 12 mph during the 14 miles into Elm Creek, then I had trouble keeping it above 10 as I faced the last 2o miles into Lexington.
I finally reminded myself of the philosophy that guides these trips. It doesn't involve proving anything to myself or to the world. The goals are to:
1) see the country and meet the people while traveling by bicycle
2) have fun. (After all, this IS my vacation we're talking about!)
Since I had already wrung every bit of fun I could out of biking today, it was time to meet some people. En route to Elm Creek, I started hitchbiking again: cycling along, and sticking my thumb out whenever I heard traffic approaching (unless I was gripping my handlebars trying to regain control after another gust). It took 14 miles until Chris and Deb drove by, saw my signal, and stopped just as another downpour looked imminent.
An invitation to stay the night soon followed. They took me home to their menagerie, showing me the roll call of animals they rescued or owned: purebred Siamese cats (including three kittens), a black cat, several small dogs, over two dozen cockatiels and button quail, a handful of ferrets, and three iguanas. Now I'm enjoying a quiet evening. Since nearly everything in my packs got at least slightly wet, I laundered everything. I also seized the chance to get caught up on blogging, then showed Deb, Chris, and the grandkids my Litterwalk DVD.
As we talked late, Chris name-dropped a name that got my attention. When I was in junior high, my folks often took us into Denver to see All-Star Wrestling matches. I remember such stars as Crusher and Bruiser, Man Mountain Mike, the Flying Redheads, Cowboy Bill Watts, and the Vachon brothers Mad Dog and Butcher. It turns out that Chris's cousin is married to Mad Dog Vachon!
Out of the High School, Into the Flats
Fri May 9: Columbus to Grand Island, NE: 80 miles; 65, clouds, no wind; 10:30-4:00.After blueberry pancakes and eggs with the Trautweins, I biked alongside Babcock Lake to Lakeview High School. Bob Arp met me at the door, welcoming me to his school. His warm reception got me thinking of 'what if's - though I'd had a great time last night and this morning with Bob and Judy, I imagined I'd have had just as good a time if I'd accepted Bob Arp's offer of lodging.
I expect Lakeview will go down as the only high school this trip where I give my litter talk. (I'm scheduled to talk at Julesburg High, but about Africa and writing books.) With nearly three hundred students in the bleachers, I played my DVD and talked shortly, then asked my three pointed questions. I am used to the reticence of high schoolers, so it didn't surprise me when no one raised their hand to suggest answers (though a very few shouted out ideas).
When I asked for their questions, though, that shyness disappeared. Several students posed thoughtful queries. One girl (Angela) asked more than the others, including a couple of insightful questions: "How many hours do you bike each day? What do you think about when you're out there?" Those questions earned her a book when I finished.
I had long mileage to go to Grand Island - and for the first time in over a week, no wind ruffled the air. Bob T and Bob A both recommended a scenic route to get to US30, avoiding downtown Columbus, and after a few short hills, the land turned dead flat. That allowed me to motor along at more than 16 mph for four hours, all the way into town.
I briefly considered camping, but decided to motel it so I could treat myself to a movie and nice dinner. I lollygagged in the shower, had a leisurely meal, and caught the 9:45 show of
Iron Man. When it ended at midnight, I had to jog back to the hotel - I only had my light jacket on, and it had started raining...
