Bike Tour 2022 – Cañon City day off

As usual I slept fitfully in my tent. It was a comfortable campsite but I neglected to take any Advil PM so I never really conked out.

At 9 a.m. I called the Abbey and lined up room for Mark, Corey, and me in the dorm.

I struck camp, said goodbye to my human hosts, Dwayne and Stephanie, and their three canine overlords, Raven, Eddie, and Daisy, and rode down into Cañon City for a late breakfast. I was following Dwayne’s directions (or so I thought) when I heard my younger sister’s voice. “Are you alright?!” I had butt dialed her while riding with my cellphone in my hip pocket.

By the time I arrived at the restaurant it was closed so I went to a second restaurant that was meh. I did drink a staggering amount of coffee so there’s that.

Next was a trip to the post office to mail home some maps. I was attempting to shed weight in anticipation of the climbing ahead. Between the maps, a dead backup battery, and a punctured bike tube, I think I slashed 3/4ths of a pound.

Mark texted me that he and Corey had arrived from Colorado Springs, after fighting a fierce headwind all morning.

We checked into our dorm rooms. We split the cost three ways even though I am getting a room of my own. The cost was $53 a piece for two nights.

1950s era dorm room. Beats sleeping on the ground any day.

Next up was the urgent matter of getting food into the new arrivals. We rode to a burger place that was as acceptable despite the limp fries. The milk shake and the conversation were good.

They returned to the dorm and I rode to a sporting goods store in search of straps to hold my camping gear to my rear rack. I’ve been using a cargo net but it’s best days are long gone.

Neither the sporting goods store nor an adjacent WalMart had anything useful.

Back at the dorm Mark gave me a new set of maps so my mailing was for naught.

We walked to dinner about a half mile. My stenosis pain made me feel every step despite a cane I fashioned out of a downed tree limb. (On the return the pain was negligible. My body is a medical enigma.)

Mark had a chicken enchilada that he quite enjoyed. Corey and I had beef burritos that were pretty much inedible. My kingdom for Chipotle.

Tomorrow is a rest day for all of us. Then we begin the ride to Hoosier Pass, about 6,000 feet of climbing over the next few days. Our first stop is the eccentric mountain stop of Guffey. It will be only 33 miles or so but we’ll gain about 3,000 feet of pain. We are praying for tailwinds. There’s a chapel down the hall; maybe they will help.

Miles today: 11.5. Tour miles: 1,236.5 or 53.8 miles per day

Bike Tour 2022 – Florence to Cañon City

Florence didn’t live up to its potential. No one escaped the SuperMax prison last night.

This morning I contented myself with the motel continental breakfast: coffee and granola bars. That’s all they had. I wonder if they feed the SuperMax prisoners like this.

Super 8 offered a not-so-super breakfast

I called the Warmshowers host in Cañon City and left a message. Then I rolled into Florence at the civilized hour of 9:30.

In town I stopped at the Copper Kettle for a real breakfast. Two eggs, hash browns, and two pancakes. Perfecto.

My plan was to ride the 8 or 10 miles to Cañon City to check out the possible shelter situation. If all else failed I could return to Florence to camp in Pioneer Park.

After breakfast I biked to the park to check it out. It was quite nice and verdant with some standing water here and there, the result of its sprinkler system. Okay, this would truly be the last resort.

I took my time riding to Cañon City. The road was narrow and quite busy. One classy Colorado dude in a big black pick up coal rolled me.

In Cañon City I rode past the Warmshowers house. It looked shipshape. Next I rode downhill to town and busy US 50. I found the abbey but it was closed for the weekend. It’s mostly a winery and assorted other ventures these days.

The Abbey. There are several other buildings on the campus

After the Abbey I went to a Walgreens to refill my glaucoma eye drops. Wonderful people.

As I was leaving the store, the Warmshowers host called and told me to come on up and camp at his house.

I made a quick stop at a Safeway for dinner (PB&J and an orange). A sign said it was 96 degrees at noon. I made a bee line to Mugs, a bar/cafe. After my chicken sammie and three tall glasses of ice water, I rode to the Warmshowers house, up a hill I had just descended an hour or so earlier. I was dreading the short climb but it was no big deal. Maybe I’m adjusting to the whole altitude thing after all.

Dwayne and Stephanie welcomed me warmly. I had yet another ice water and set up my tent just as a squall line came through. It was much more wind than rain. My tent didn’t budge.

While writing this post, Dwayne learned that the leader of the TransAmerica Bicycle Trail race was cruising through Cañon City. We walked down the street to cheer him on. After five minutes we almost gave up, thinking we had missed him. Then there he was biking around a bend in the road. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was just a local rider out for a quick spin. He started in Astoria, Oregon on June 5, a week ago.

Kraig Pauli, 56-year-old race leader in Cañon City

In a change of plans, Corey and Mark are coming to Cañon City tomorrow. Mark seems determined to stay in the Abbey dorm. I’ll check on availability in the morning. No worries; there are plenty of other options available.

The next couple of riding days will take us over Hoosier Pass, the highest point, over 11,000 feet, on the TransAm. Mark and Corey did this in 2019.

Miles today: 17.5. Tour miles: 1,225

Bike Tour 2022 – Pueblo to Florence

Last night’s dinner was trail mix and water. Yep, my lunch was so filling I couldn’t eat much of anything else. I must drink about a gallon of water every night. Very little of it sees the light of day.

I rode through Pueblo to get on the Adventure Cycling route but the digital map app I bought to guide me was useless.

I ended up with a tour of Pueblo’s middle class neighborhoods. I passed many arts and crafts bungalows and other styles of one-story houses. Once you get away from the highways, Pueblo’s not half bad.

This bungalow caught my eye. Love the paint, the art work, the pergola, and the little Buddha on the approachy to the porch. The black fence, not so much.

I gave up on the Adventure Cycling app and switched to Google maps. I was going great until it led me to a 4.5 mile dirt road. I backtracked and got on the main road, having gone about five miles in circles between the two apps. Give me paper maps any day!

Highway 96, which I have been on for a week or so, goes straight to Wetmore where my Warmshowers hosts live. In the process I gained 1,400 feet of elevation to about 6,100 feet in 30 miles. Of course, that includes riding over a ridge east of town that must have been more like 6,400 feet. The climb up was a 9% grade. I gave up about half way. The driver of a pick up stopped, backed up 100 yards, and asked me if I’d like a lift to the top. I stubbornly and stupidly said no and pushed The Mule on foot all the way to the top. I did this climb easily in 2019 so today’s hike-a-bike was very disappointing.

The ride down the ridge was fun. When I got to Wetmore I pulled out my phone to get the address of my hosts only to find that my phone had overheated and shut down.

There are only 3 streets in Wetmore. I tried the first but a local resident told me it could not have been his street. I rode to the Post Office on the next street but the Postmaster was new and couldn’t help me. Next I talked to a couple of women who were chatting a few houses away. They immediately knew which house I was looking for.

It as the first house that I passed.

Arriving at the house, I was greeted by barking dogs on both sides of the street. I figured they would alert my hosts to my presence but no one came to the door, so I helped myself to some water from the canteen on the porch (as they had advised me to do). After a few minutes Johnny came out. 6 foot 2, shaved head, fit, long sleeved technical shirt with a hood, leather kilt, and lace up boots that covered his calves. And, as it turned out, as pleasant a man as you’d want to meet.

I knew I was unlikely to stay because Johnny’s wife Kristin messaged me last night with the news that their daughter had tested positive for Covid yesterday. Still Johnny and I had a pleasant chat. He let me use his phone to book a room in a motel near Florence.

I had heard that there was a 1,000 foot climb between Wetmore and Florence. Johnny explained that the climb was southward. I was heading north.

He’s a bike commuter. He once fashioned a bike with two chain rings and one cog. He’d use the big chain ring to ride downhill to work in Florence and the small one to ride back home.

With the imposing Hardscrabble Mountains to my left and the ridge I earlier had walked up to my right, I cruised ten miles downhill to my hotel.

This county is home to ten prisons, three of which are next to my motel. One of them is the federal SuperMax prison. It’s occupants include the World Trade Center truck bomber, the Boston Marathon bomber, the shoe bomber, the underpants bomber, the Unabomber, numerous murderous Mafiosi and drug dealers, and Robert Hanssen, an FBI agent turned Russian spy. Before he died, the father of Woody Harrelson was imprisoned here. He was a hit man who killed a federal judge among others.

After checking in and dropping my bags, I phoned home to wish Mrs. Rootchopper a happy 34th anniversary.

Next I rode a half mile downhill to a fast food burger place for lunch. The burger and fries were medium but to me they seemed huge. I also drank about a half gallon of soda. They lost money on me.

I confirmed that I can stay in the city park tomorrow. It has early morning sprinklers but I’ll think of some way to make it work.

The convenience store next to the burger place is called the Loaf and Jug. They did not have any loaves but, incongruously, they had junk food from Cumberland Farms, a New England dairy.

I bought some junk food and a huge can of Australian liquid bread and rode back to the motel.

The vegetation west of Pueblo was noticeably different. That’s the ridge I walked in the distance

Hardscrabble Mountains on the road to Florence

Two of the prisons near my hotel. The SuperMax prison is not visible from the road.

Miles today: 48. Tour miles: 1,275

Today marks three weeks of the tour

Bike Tour 2022 – Ordway to Pueblo

I neglected to mention Olav’s close encounter with a grizzly bear in Yellowstone Park. He was riding fast down a hill when he saw a large vehicle with a camper stopped on the road ahead. He passed the vehicle on the left. Just as he came to the driver’s door, he saw a grizzly crossing the road in front of the vehicle. He said he was within five meters of the bear who paid no attention to him. I did not ask if he pooped his pants.

In case you are concerned about me, no worries; Mark who will be joining me soon usually takes the lead. Go Mark Go!

The Ordway Hotel was a good choice. The bed was comfy, the shower positively heavenly.

Breakfast was coffee and a cherry turnover. That’s pretty much what Ordway had to offer. Off I rode for 50 miles in the Arkansas River valley to Pueblo. (People in Missouri and Kansas pronounce it R Kansas. Coloradans say R Kansaw.) Mercifully I had a tailwind. And the road was either flat or slightly downhill.

The turnover was wearing off when I stopped to talk with Tony and Carrie, two eastbound riders. They were on their way from Denver to Bethesda, MD, almost certainly passing within a mile and a half of my house.

Tony, now a 62-year-old teacher, did the TransAm 36 years ago.

We parted ways and I made it to Boone and a rather poorly stocked convenience store. They had Gatorade, ice cream, and cheese and crackers. Gulp.

Of course , my snack messed my blood sugar all up and I rode like a drunk for a few miles. The last 6 miles into Pueblo was a bit of a shock. High speed traffic on a divided highway. People! Houses! Businesses! What happened to home on the range? In a strange contrast, my side of the road was briefly bordered by prairie dog habitat. As I rode along, they’d pop out of their holes and chirp.

I had a few things to do in Pueblo. First I needed a spare tube and a shot of air in my tires. I pulled into a curb cut to check the Google. Then I looked up. I was in front of a bike store! The same one I visited in 2019.

After that I went to an ATM. I’d nearly gone through $200 in cash since sometime in May.

A bike shop employee recommended the Shamrock Bar for lunch. Being a newly minted Irish citizen I couldn’t not go there. I had the green chili mac with bacon and an Irish Red brew. The plate of food was enormous. I have no shame; I ate it all.

Next I checked a hotel downtown for a room but it would have cost over $200. I reserved a room at the Baymont Inn three miles uptown. As it turns out, I booked the last room.

After checking in, I put a did a load of wash, everything but my rain pants and my torn t-shirt. After the wash I put the clothes in the dryer. It wouldn’t take my quarters. I complained to the manager. She refused to let me use the hotel dryer. She told me to take it to a laundromat. I reminded her that I was in a bike and that it was 95 degrees outside. She objected to the fact that I was upset.

After a few minutes of stewing, I used the Google to find a laundromat and rode there. A customer, obviously of modest means, pointed to a machine with 2 minutes of drying time left then added 75 cents to it. He wouldn’t let me pay him back. Laundromat karma’s gonna get you.

Tomorrow I’m heading further west, about 35 miles, to stay with a Warmshowers host. It’s supposed to be very hot but, as they say, it’s a dry heat. I will be gaining about 1,400 feet in elevation. Staying overnight at over 6,000 feet should help me acclimate.

Today was my first sighting of the Rockies. They are rather intimidating looking.

Tony and Carrie, two crazy kids on their way to Bethesda, MD

No more open range and mega farms. They got trees here!

Ice water and Irish Red. Hydration is important.

Miles today: 57. Tour miles: 1,159.5.

Bike Tour 2022 – Eads to Ordway

I am in Trump country. The city offices in Eads had the official President Trump photo in a prominent location. I didn’t see one of Brandon though.

While riding through the side streets of Eads last night I saw a towheaded little boy no more than two wandering alone in the middle of the street. It felt a bit like a Rod Serling moment.

I fell asleep way too early and slept like a fallen tree. I woke up at 2:48 a.m. I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and woke up again at 4:30. I tried again and got up at 5:35. I had been assured that the park’s sprinkler system had been deactivated but I broke camped exceptionally fast in case the maintenance man didn’t get the memo.

I rode the half mile to the roadside bathroom. The facilities were all metal. Sitting on the cold toilet woke me up muy pronto. Next I rode to a gas station convenience store to buy water and a sandwich for my ride. It’s about 60 miles to Ordway without any services.

Next up was breakfast at JJ’s where I was joined by Olav, an eastbound rider. Olav is from Norway. He’s doing 100 miles per day.

The breakfast was huge After eating every molecule, I headed west on The Mule. The road was very gently rolling as it passed through the plains, a railroad line on a berm to my right.

After 35 miles, two deer, 50 or so cattle, and some grain elevators, I arrived at Arlington. I ate my gas station sandwich. Eastbound rider Mike told me of how disgusting the Arlington comfort station was. Eww. Needless to say, I took a pass on using it.

The remaining 20 miles were a grind. The terrain however was gently downhill and, with the aid of a mild tailwind, I took full advantage. My speedometer read between 15 and 18 mph the whole way. The five miles after Sugar City were flat. Not one inch up or down.

I trucked into Ordway and found the only hotel in town where Corey, Mark, and I had squeezed into a room in 2019. I had plenty of camping options, but it had been four days since my last hot shower. Let’s just say that my BO confirmed that I didn’t have Covid.

I would have taken a slot alone in the hotel’s hostel section with its shared bathroom but two Belgian cycle tourists arrived immediately after I did. $30 more for a private room and no deadly infection won out.

After a fantastic shower, I went in search of edible plant medicine only to find the town’s weed store was closed. After a minute checking out the town saloon, I ended up at a pizza place where I had a Prison Break sausage sandwich, a wise choice.

I am several days early for the end of the solo portion of my ride in Canon City. I need to balance cost of shelter with scary heat arriving here in the next few days. My options include staying here another day, staying in a hotel in Pueblo, staying with at least one Warmshowers host on route, staying in a motel in either Florence or Canon City, and, I kid you not, staying in a dorm room in an abbey in Canon City.

Riding into Eads involved a fierce sprint of sorts through a highway work zone. It left my head spinning. My blast across the plains today did the same. Even at 4,500 feet or so I can feel the effects of altitude. Ordway is at 4,300 feet.

Miles today: 65. Tour miles: 1,102.5.

My light breakfast. Held me in good stead for 35 miles.

Bike Tour 2022 – Sheridan Lake to Eads

Right after I posted last night we were put under a tornado warning. What fun. The sky was creepy. About 30 minutes later four eastbound bicyclists showed up. Theo, Emma, Kevin, and Chase left Oregon on May 1. They encountered impassable roads at their first mountain pass. Snow.

Despite the crazy weather and crashes they are all in good spirits.

I had some pancakes for breakfast then headed west on Highway 96. I’m in no hurry and the nearest town is Eads, about 30 miles west. With temperatures in the high 60s and a tailwind I was tempted to go long but the previous three days were hard so I decided to camp in the town park in Eads. Three free nights in a row.

About half way to Eads I stopped to chat with Gary and Michael, eastbound riders on an epic adventure. They started in San Francisco, rode to Los Angeles, then banged a left on US Route 66 through the Mojave desert, across Arizona, up to the Grand Canyon, through the Utah parks, over two 11,000-foot passes, then into the Front Range on 96. They’re riding to Yorktown then up to Maine. In Maine they’ll bang another left and re-cross the country. Nothin’ to it.

Last night they were caught in a hailstorm and considered themselves lucky not to be hit by baseball-sized hail that fell not far from their location.

We traded info and stories for a half hour then headed our separate ways.

My route took me downhill out of Sheridan Lake then back up over 4,000 feet shortly after our roadside chat. The last mile into Eads was through a one-lane construction zone. I busted my butt to get through as fast as possible. The drivers behind me were mercifully patient.

In Eads I checked in with the Sheriff and made sure the sprinkler system was turned off in the park.

The next few days will be increasingly hot. I’ll need to be careful not to overdue it.

Miles today: 30.5. Tour miles: 1,036.5

Gary and Michael and their super heavy bikes.

Bike Tour 2022 – Leoti, Kansas to Sheridan Lake, Colorado

Upon arriving in Leoti, I pitched my tent in the town park (my repair worked!) and went to take a shower in the adjacent mini-hospital. The nurse in charge wouldn’t let me use the shower, presumably out of Covid concerns. (I was wearing better protection, an N95 respirator mask, than the hospital staff. Go figure.)

I was dispatched to the swimming pool where I took a very cold shower. I felt rather like George Costanza when I was done.

I had dinner at the town bakery, where I ate in 2019. When I left for the bakery the skies were partly cloudy when I returned they were black.

I quickly got into my tent then all hell broke loose. Big gusty winds and a mighty rain ensued. I hoped that I set up the tent properly and that it didn’t leak. Yes on both counts.

After an hour I took an Advil PM and re-emerged. I could see the next wave of storms bearing down. Back in the tent I went. Another raging storm came through. My tent held firm and dry. With ear plugs in and eye mask on I fell asleep until 3 a.m. It was still raining, but not inside my little sanctuary.

I arose with the birds and twiddled my thumbs until the town diner opened at 7. It had a big circular table where ten large men gathered to discuss whatever men discuss. Every single small town has this.

Back at the park I was packing up and about to leave when Bob Eakins rolled up. Bob and I met in Monticello, Utah in 2019. He had just finished riding from Sacramento and was DONE, exhausted mentally and physically. It made me wonder what I was about to get myself into. I felt the same as Bob when I arrived in San Francisco.

Bob is riding west to east from Pueblo. I thought he was well to the east by now but he rides relatively short days. A bit surprising considering his relative youth – he’s 65.

After an hour he returned to his motel room and I headed straight west on Kansas Highway 96. Into a headwind of course. I was working hard, curiously taking big gulps of fresh air.

The farms on either side of the road went on forever and the sky was picture pretty with puffy white clouds. Every so often one of the clouds would block the sun and the temperature would drop. Aah.

I arrived 23 miles later in Tribune where I stopped for lunch. Chicken strips and green beans. Fine dining.

Tribune is in Greeley County. I lit out west on 96 and soon passed the small town of Horace. Go west young man indeed.

The wind was more of a cross wind after lunch but I still seemed to be working awfully hard. A reward of sorts came when I left Kansas and entered Colorado. I will Kansas no more forever. (Except on the 50 States Ride, of course.)

In Colorado the road had expansion joints, what every cyclist’s ass hates. Thankfully they didn’t continue for more than a few miles. I was passed by oncoming farm equipment that looked like Transformers.

I arrived in Sheridan Lake, population 88 if you count the pets, and chatted with the clerk in the town gas station/convenience store. She grew up in Towner, which I had passed through a few miles previously. Towner’s population is 22.

On the way into the store I waved to a bicycle tourist coming from the west. He and I are staying at the Sheridan Lake Bible Church which has hosted bike tourists every summer for many years.

My east bound friend is Mike, from Switzerland. He’s a fascinating man. He trekked in Nepal, visited Cambodia and Vietnam, flew to Los Angeles, then flew to Denver where he bought a bike and a Burley flat bed trailer and set out across America. Mike had a catalytic converter business in Europe that he sold in 2005. There’s no future in it, he rationalized. His mother’s side of the family developed the Schindler company, a manufacturing conglomerate. Among other things they make escalators and elevators. I wonder if my 2018 bike tour friend Martin who worked in elevator repair in Switzerland worked for Schindler. It would be an interesting coincidence.

Ernie, the pastor of the church came by and chatted for a long time. He has all kinds of stories about bike tourists who’ve stayed here. Imagine living in the middle of nowhere and meeting people from all over the world.

Mike is camping outside despite the threat of bad weather. He doesn’t like to sleep on the floor. He knows a thing or two about bad weather; he sailed across the Atlantic twice.

For those of you who think I’m a little old to be doing this, Mike is 85.

I’m now at 4,071 feet. I gained about 700 feet today. Gotta gulp that air now.

Roadside grain tower in Towner. I watched a crew building one of these. Truly impressive. They added band after band of wraparound rebar using a crane from the top.

Today’s miles: 54. Tour miles: 1,006.

Bike Tour 2022 – Dighton to Leoti

After escaping a Hitchcockian fate at the motel, I rode to the bowling alley for breakfast. It had a diner attached to it. That’s small town Kansas in a nutshell.

The owner and I got to talking. He says nobody in Kansas gets the Covid vaccine; they all take intermectin instead. He had absolutely no interest in science or vaccines. No point in arguing the matter with someone who lives in his own reality.

He told me that he grew up on the Crow reservation in Montana and was in the Navy. For many years he ran a dive shop in Cozumel. An interesting guy. I hope he doesn’t end up on a ventilator.

All the D-Day and RFK postings on Twitter got it into my head that today was our wedding anniversary so I called my wife. It’s on the 11th. Derp.

We had a good chat though. It sounds like our daughter is really hitting her stride with law school. Yay!

The ride to Leoti was a grind on an unexpectedly busy highway. The road seemed to tilt a bit more upward and the cross wind felt much more like a headwind.

I have been having leg cramps at night so I made sure to drink as I rode. After 25 miles I reached Scott City where I saw a bank sign say it was 91 degrees. Oof!

I ate lunch in an air conditioned cafe. I guzzled two tall glasses of ice water and one of Coke. Then it was back on the highway for another 25 miles to Leoti. More headwind, more traffic, more uphill.

Eight miles out of town I passed a rather impressive looking bakery located pretty much alone on the prairie. Outside there is a metal sign of a bicyclist. It’s a memorial to a cross country racer who was killed during a race. The bakery had a sign that said “ice cream sandwiches” so I went inside and bought one. Actually they wouldn’t let me pay, the family of the bike racer pays for treats for all bike tourists.

Into Leoti I found the city park where I camped with Mark and Corey in 2019. I had a beast of a time setting up my tent in 2019 but today it went up in 10 minutes. The small hospital next store used to allow bike tourists to shower there but they are paranoid about Covid and sent me to the swimming pool in the park. The pool’s showers had only cold water. Woke my ass right up.

It turns out that I gained 500 feet in elevation today.

Nasty storms are coming thru town tonight. I’m riding out the first wave as I type this. So far so dry. The first time in days that the storm forecast was correct. So of course I am camping.

Total miles: 52. Tour miles: 1,024

Bike Tour 2022 – Dodge City to Dighton

The motel breakfast was alright by me. Two helpings of breakfast burritos without the tortillas washed down with multiple cups of coffee.

A tailwind greeted The Mule this morning and we rode it on US 50 all the way to Cimarron, about 18 miles west. We pulled into a supermarket to stock up on snacks (two apples, two bananas, and a wrap).

The weather report called for nasty thunderstorms with the possibility of hail and a tornado tonight. Let’s go camping!

Not.

The weather report also said I’d have a tailwind if I headed north. So I decided to eschew the finer hotels of Garden City to the west on US 50 and head north through nothingness to Dighton which is on the TransAm Trail.

The first 20 miles had the predicted tailwinds and even seemed to be slightly downhill. I spent a good deal of time going 18 – 20 mph without expending much effort.

I was back in infinite farm country. All day the overcast sky looked like it was going to spawn showers; all day it was dry if a bit more hot and humid than recent days.

After another 20 miles the route turned west for five miles, then north for the remainder of the day. The level prairie gave way to more rolling terrain and the winds began to turn first as a crosswind then for the last five miles into a headwind.

I was glad to see the grain elevator and water tower of Dighton after an unexpectedly hard ride. It turns out that Dighton is nearly 300 feet higher in elevation than Dodge City. Conscious of the weather report I immediately looked for a motel room. The Dighton Inn is an old cinder lock place straight out of a film noir.

After washing up I headed out for a late lunch. The town Mexican place was close and open. Good enough. The food left a lot to be desired.

Fortunately there are multiple choices for breakfast.

Tomorrow’s ride will be 48 miles straight west to Leoti where I camped with Mark and Corey in 2019. The camping is next to a small hospital where showers are provided for bicycle tourists.

Today’s miles: 72. Tour miles: 952.

Real prairie and a small portion of the historic Santa Fe Trail.

A Native American man prays or perhaps meditates at a monument to the Santa Fe Trail.

I finally got close to one of these behemoths. There are far fewer of these wind turbines than I expected.

Bike Tour 2022 – Greensburg to Dodge City

A couple of things happened last night worth noting. After my shower I left an amazing three inch wide ring in the tub. Maybe one reason I’m so slow is that I’m carrying half of Kansas with me.

Much more worrisome was the return of my stenosis leg pain. I walked less than a quarter mile to the gas station/Subway/convenience store up the highway. By the time I got there my left leg was screaming at me. I had planned to bring my food back to my room but opted to eat in the restaurant to let the pain calm down. The walk back caused a similar pain flare up so I hit the floor and did the PT exercises I have neglected for two weeks. Before bed I took two Gabapentin tablets. They seemed to help. They also knocked me out. I slept 8 1/2 hours.

The hotel breakfast was the real deal. Biscuits and gravy and sausage and cereal and OJ and coffee. (They also had made-to-order omelets, but I found out only after I had already gone all Porky on the other grub.) I figured I’d get about 20-25 miles out of the feast.

I set off around 10 headed west then northwest for Dodge City. The first 20 miles featured a strong crosswind. The last 24 the wind was favorable and my speed jumped by 3 or 4 mph.

I was back in flat farm country. I felt a bit like I was on a wind trainer as I pedaled away. The road was pitched upward about one percent the entire way. I gained another 200 feet of elevation today.

The pavement and the wide paved shoulder made for good rolling. I was passed by numerous livestock trucks, tractor trailers with a rather fragrant air wake.

I found out why when I arrived in Dodge, after a detour with a rudely steep hill. (Granny made short work of it.) Dodge City is home to National Beef, a humongous slaughterhouse. As I rolled past the offices I could see that the workers were shod in yellow Wellies. Wouldn’t want to ruin your normal shoes with all that blood and gore now would you?

Once in Dodge proper I could see the tourist part of town. It faces right onto a four-lane highway. So much for historical ambiance. There was some sort of street festival going on. Big crowds. Very noisy. Not for me.

I headed for the peace and quiet of the Super 8 on US 50 about a half mile west of the Wild West.

The front desk clerk was a true gem. She cheerfully helped me get my stuff inside and gave me a bag of snacks. Her name is Lotus and Wyndham Hotels should give her a big raise

One problem with bike touring out west is that you don’t notice the dry heat until you stop riding. Eek, it’s 85 degrees. No wonder I’m so thirsty.

My itinerary had me continuing on another 20 miles to Cimmaron but there’s no need to push it. Tomorrow’s weather looks good. I may use the southerly winds to ride back to the TransAm or just continue on the highway to Garden City.

Miles today: 46. Tour miles: 828.

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