Across the wind

Sunday, July 30. Ness City, KS to Scott City, KS; Monday, July 31. Scott City, KS, to Tribune, KS.

Oh. My. Goodness.

There had to be a day we would look back on and know was the worst one of the trip, and perhaps Sunday was it. The forecast was for 20-30mph winds from the south, meaning they would be crosswinds.

Oh. My. Goodness.

When the forecast calls for 20-30 mph winds back in Georgia, it means that the winds might reach that speed sometime in the afternoon when the storm passes over your neighborhood. When they forecast that here in Kansas, they mean that the winds will blow at that speed constantly, relentlessly, for DAYS.

We worked all day fighting to ride west while resisting being blown north. It was exhausting. Occasionally we would get blown off the road. Once I was blown off the shoulder, and in the midst of correcting, got caught by another collossal gust, and was spilled into the dry grass.

The day was worsened by the fact that I'm an idiot. I noticed that we were averaging more than a mile and a half per hour less than yesterday, and dumbly insinuated to Nancy that she might not be exerting herself sufficiently. The wind makes you say stupid things, and that must be the stupidest thing I've said on this trip, maybe even in my life. I was punished all day by having to ride alone and wonder if she would forgive me. I'm an idiot.

Before I was an idiot, though, we did get to see the historical marker indicating George Washington Carver's homestead near Ness City. He lived and farmed there for a few years before leaving to pursue his masters degree in agriculture. It was a nice rest stop, too, because we were able to get out of the wind a little.

We also saw our first tumbleweed (but certainly not our last, Becky later informed us). It's like seeing a bird you've never seen before but which is common where you see it. Others are a little annoyed by them but to us, it was exciting. It rolled along through a field to our south, looking like a hollow ball of string, or a rattan ball. Then it crossed the road in front of Nancy, bounced a few times, then vanished into a field of milo.

We stopped for lunch in Dighton, first passing and then returning to, apparently, the only restaurant in town, called Frigid Creme. As we passed it I hoped we would find something a little more appealing, but when we got to the Shay's Inn (on the other side of town), I went in to ask, and was told that was it.

It was at the Shay's Inn that we met a British couple who were there in support of some cross-country cyclists (we would get the whole story only later, in Scott City); they were waiting for their room to be cleaned, and then before we set off for lunch, they drove off west looking for their cyclists (who are going east). Before we left Dighton, we topped off with water and ice.

We made it about 2/3 of the way to Scott City before we had to stop and see if we could get some more water at a residence. There was nobody home, so we filled up at the farm pump in the front yard, and then sat on the front stoop in the shade for a little rest. While we sat there, we watched as a swallow repeatedly flew from behind a tree, hovered and drifted across the front yard on the strong wind, and then returned to the shelter of the tree. We decided he was playing.

When we reached Scott City, we checked in to the Chapparal Inn (finding that we were under a heat advisory). The person who checked us in was Heather, an 8th grader who also plays volleyball, basketball, and runs for the track team at her school. She also came to our room when it seemed that the AC wasn't working and let us know that it must have been wired backwards, because to get it to turn on, you needed to set the temperature very high. It was still blowing cold air, which was all we wanted at that point.

We decided that we were tired enough to have one of the few restaurants in town that were open BRING us food instead of us going there. That meant we could do our laundry and hang them outside between our bikes to dry; we figured that drying might take about 5 minutes, what with the heat and wind. So when Nancy went out to check on them and didn't come right back in, I went out to see what had happened.

She had met Cindy Brown, who was acting as primary support for a cyclist who is riding across the country west to east. That cyclist is none other than Jane, of Jane's Appeal (www.janesappeal.org, we think). We also learned then that the British couple we met in Dighton are also supporting this ride, helping the cameraman. Jane was diagnosed with cancer about 6 years ago, and was given 6 months to live. Obviously, she's' still going, and working hard to raise money for cancer research.

Monday. Knowing we would gain an hour on the ride today, as we cross into Mountain Time, we elected to use that hour sleeping in a little this morning. The wind was still cool when we left and stayed that way almost until we got to our lunch stop in Leoti.

The wind was strong, which was hard to ride through by itself; but the task was exacerbated by the presence of numerous feedlots in Scott County. Feedlots smell. It is where they bring cows to feed them the rich diet they need to "finish" them before they are, well, "what's for dinner". That rich diet leads to some rich-smelling byproducts. Semis pulling empty livestock trailers would give us plenty of room, but the dry stuff emerging from the holes in the trailer, carried by the wind, inevitably hit us. Other trucks passed us which seemed to be hauling entire loads full of cow dung; from these, we were pelted with a veritable hail of dried cowpie pieces. Today was still better than yesterday, though, because Nancy was talking to me again.

When we got to Leoti, I just wanted to get a Gatorade at the c-store before we looked for someplace to eat. Neither of us was very hungry, but we knew that if we didn't eat something we would regret it somewhere in the next 22 miles. So we went to the restaurant in the Hi-Plains Hotel for a light lunch of sandwiches and tater tots. Why don't more places have tater tots? Hm. We also found that the local KSU extension office had left cards on the tables with "Table Topics", including information about cheese aging and mold (and the white crust you sometimes find, which is really just calcium salts that are totally harmless. You can cut it off if you don't like it) and about spider mite control. At leasst half of that information wass useful to us, and we're not even farmers.

About 10 miles beyond Leoti is a tiny place called Selkirk. There is not much there, but by the old depot is the largest hand-dug well in the country. We could not see the bottom, and it was at least 25 feet in diameter, lined as far as we could see down into it with the native Kansas limestone. There was unfortunately not much information available at the site, though.

I ran out of water in my Camelback less than 4 miles from Tribune, where we would stop for the night, and had to empty one of the bottles of water I carry into the Camelback for the remainder of the ride - hot, hot water, but I was glad to have it.

Just as we arrived on the outskirts of Tribune, we saw the only other cyclists we would see today, Christine and Sue, who were just leaving Tribune headed for Leoti. They had left Seattle in mid-June on the Northern Tier, and then hopped to the Trans-America route by riding from Sand Point to Missoula. Both had BOB trailers, and they told us they were heading to New Jersey.

Their mini-mascots, woven finger puppets of a tiger and giraffe, were affixed on Christine and Sue's handlebar bags, respectively. We showed them Detour the Duck and told them the story of our trek. We also warned them to make sure they had plenty of water for the road to Loeti, but Christine told us they had learned their lesson a few days ago when she got dehydrated. Now they have a rule: drink at least one bottle of water every hour. They had plenty of water with them, under that rule.

When we arrived at the Trails End Motel, we met Bob, the proprietor, and his dog Sparky. He has two recumbents parked out front, and might be the most laid-back guy we've met yet. Nancy talked with him for a few minutes (while I made a hasty retreat to our room for a reason decorum precludes detailing here); turns out he's toured all over Europe and parts of Scandanavia. He also roasts his own coffee beans, he told us when he called our room a little later to offer us some. We might get some in the morning, but we were still too warm for it this afternoon.

Tomorrow, we may encounter some rain, but the wind is projected to continue. We will also enter Colorado, and our destination is Eads. We have been alerted to a place we need to stay in Ordway (with someone named Jillian), the day after tomorrow, by a few people now, and we probably will go there. If the heat advisory is lifted we may finally be able to camp again (cross your fingers). Wish us luck!