I woke up Sunday morning stiff as could be, and staggered my way over to the dinner next door and indulged in their all you can eat buffet. I was the only person there for a while, and it was lovely having the waitstaff fill their small plates half full, as I was going back up for some major seconds. Before I forget to mention this, again, I have a very impressive tidbit of info from yesterday that I thought I should share: I climbed a total of 200 ft yesterday. I know, I know... I don't know how I did it. It is simply incredible ;) (i made sure Lindsay, was sitting down when i told her)
I started out at around 8:00 am, and immediately, I noticed the headwind. It was from the SSE, so it was partial crosswind, partial headwind. I was not too excited, and hoped that it would dissipate as the morning progressed. About 10 miles into my struggle, I spotted another biker, and chatted with him for a bit. His name was Ben, and he was traveling alone, he is from Boston, and started from Yorktown, VA. roughly mid July. Lindsay and I had learned that as general rule, you don't take the locals suggestions of what roads are steep or flat, or far away a town is, unless, of course, they are bikers. I am not trying to sound like a snob, and I know those people are just trying to be helpful, but when you travel a car the grade of the hill is not likely on the forefront of your mind, and it is a lot different using an engine's energy than it is your own. For example, a few of the locals in the desert told us that we would never make it to Austin, NV that night (that was our big 112 mile day), because Austin was half way up a mountain and the mountain was 11,000 feet high. In reality, we did make it, (yes, it was horribly hard), and the mountain that they were talking about was only about 7,400 feet. Huge difference. Ben concurred with his, and we both traded explanations and details about the terrain we just crossed, helpful hints, etc. As Lindsay had left, he was the first person I had seen in a long time that knew what it was like to make this trek with lots of weight. He was the first person I talked to who understood what I was doing.
My first stop of the day was Sheridan Lake, about 28 miles from Eads. I was excited that I might get to see a body of water. The head wind had not let up, so by the time I got to Sheridan lake, it was hot and I was ready for some ice water, or any water at all. Just like the town, the "lake" had dried up. There was nothing there but dilapidated buildings, a large mud pit where the lake was supposed to be, and a convenient store that was closed on Sunday. I went down one of the town streets to investigate a bit more, and the only building in the town that was really well kept, including the grounds, was the church. The parking lot was full with cars.
I found refuge from the sun in the shade created by the convenient store shadow. The flies joined me for a lovely snack, and I was on my way, praying that the wind would go away, and that I might see some people, and excited that in a few miles I would be leaving Colorado to enter our 5th state.
As I was approaching the Kansas/Colorado boarder, the road made a slight deviation from due East and the head wind greeted me full force, and I will admit that I had a tantrum and started shaking my bike (Lindsay had suggested it). It didn't work. The wind didn't go away, and in turn, it made me more exhausted. And then that's when I saw the back of the "Welcome to Colorado" sign (it was the same as the one we had seen when we entered Colorado). Eagerly, I scanned the horizon for a "Welcome to Kansas" sign. There were two metal signs that said something about a Kansas transportation law and that I was crossing into Wichita County, nothing else... but then...
There were two wooden poles 50 feet ahead with a wooden cross bar on the top connecting the two poles. Where the sign should have been, there was nothing to see but the fields behind it, and a long metal piece that was flopping in the wind, that must have once held up the sign... that was not there. I noticed, however, as I got next to it, that someone had dutifully written "Welcome to Kansas" in small lettering, off center, written in Sharpie. I'm sure that sign is on somebody's bedroom wall.
And so my lovely relationship with Kansas began. The winds got stronger as I pedaled into Tribune, Kansas, population of just over 1,000. Tribune was in slightly better shape than the other towns I had passed through, but there was very little there. Two of the restaurants and small bowling alley had clearly been vacant for quite some time. There was gas station, as well as a new restaurant that advertised that everything they used was local. The manager/owner took me around back to lock up my bike, as there was no where to leave it in the front of the building. She said she had always been so curious about bikers and wanted to know where people were going, but was always too busy. She was so sweet.
My waitress was one of the friendliest people I had seen in a while. She was young, maybe 24 or so. She informed me that there was a huge drought that had been going for decades, and it has been the longest drought in 50 years. She said it was from the all of the dams that have been built, and since the 60's when they were first beginning construction, the land started to dry up, and "little by little, it has gotten worse, to a point that nothing really can grow." It made me uneasy to think of the enormous impact that humans have on the land. Once upon a time, these fields were once flourishing, untouched prairies. Now, growth cannot be sustained, and there are few animals and traces of wildlife to be found. Our laziness and negligence leaves a more permanent indication that we were there than most care to realize, from the can thrown out the window (even the trees and shrubs around those houses look deserted, forgotten), to the house built years ago that is now crumbling to the ground, to the old telephone poles that have been left while new ones were built on the other side of the road. If I were the wind, I would be angry, too. The waitress told me that by 2013 they would be letting most of the dams out to let the water take it's natural course back into the land. I hope that really happens.
As I was inhaling my food, the husband of the woman who helped me with my bike, (co-owner) came over and started talking to me, asking me about my trip, where I was going, etc. I had told him that I was expecting that the wind would be behind me. He had a grin on his face as he shook his head, "No, not this time of the year. It only blows North and South." Annnnnnd of course. He laughed at me as I threw my head into my hand, and muttered my disbelief. He said that they never stop, and that the current wind situation was nothing. He told me that on this past New Year's Eve, they were sustained at 100 mph an hour for 1.5 hours. "That is some wind for ya." I asked him what they did when tornadoes came through, and what they did. "We chase them; not like Storm Chasers or anything, but we want to see what they look like... You know where they are because you watch the Fire Trucks and rescue vehicles. If they drive East, then the tornado is in the West, because they want to make sure that the vehicles are not in the town in case the tornado comes through... they go in the opposite direction."
Back at my bike, behind the store, I was getting my gear in order, and the waitress was smoking a cigarette as her friend, who was about the same age, stood and talked to her. The guy, Josh, started telling me that he thought the "Insanity" work out program was hard, but he thought differently after seeing my loaded bike. We shot the breeze. I told him about my tantrum. And then, as I turned back around after fiddling with something on my bike, he was right in front of me with his hand out to shake. "I want to thank you for what you are doing," he said, "I couldn't help but notice the back of your shirt. I want to thank you because I am a cancer survivor." I was speechless. He told me that his 5 year anniversary was this October 5th. He was diagnosed at age 17. The cancer had started in his chest and spread rapidly. He had to get a bone marrow transplant, and the steroids destroyed his bones. The cancer was also found in his CSF. He battled the cancer for two years, and his doctors said that he would not see his 20th birthday. "I just kept telling them that I would see them at my next appointment. I just kept that attitude. And then, one day, I went in for my regular spinal tap, and the cancer was gone." He kept telling me that I was doing a great thing, and he was so thankful for what we were doing, and that I should keep on being a "Rockstar." It was truly meaningful that he shared his inspiring story, and I was totally in awe of his bravery and courage. It is moments like this and people like Josh makes it easier to get back on the bike, that highlights why we started out on this journey, and what we are fighting for. When you think about what he went through, his fight, and the fight that many people are fighting right now, 106 miles in the wind is nothing. He gave me his number and told me he lived in Scott City, where I was going, and if I got there and needed anything, to contact him. He gave me a huge hug, thanked me again, and I was off to face the wind.
I had a wonderful time at the "Entering Central Time Zone" sign with my camera and timer. I was really enjoying myself, actually (and was channeling Lindsay through the entirety of it). And as I was back on my bike, making slow, but sure progress, a car slowed down, pulled over, and Josh got out of the car. He marched right over to me, and as he was sticking out his hand again, he said "I just wanted to remind you that you are freakin' awesome, and to keep doing what you are doing, because it is a great thing." He gave me another hug. He reminded me that if I should need anything let him know, even if I needed to have another tantrum. And just like that, he was off. And I just stood there, my eyes watering, my heart touched.
Josh's words stuck with me, and I seemed to ignore how the sporadic gusts of wind grew more regular and closer together, until the wind became unbearably strong. It was 5 ish, and I was 26 miles away from Scott City, and I was cutting it close as far as daylight goes. I went into a gas station and inhaled a can of chef boyardee (the lady literally just gave me a blank stare when I walked back in the door with an empty can 2 minutes after I left... (I was under pressure, and hungry, what can I say?)) And then I started on my last leg. It was during that 26 miles that I got chased by my first dog. I tried to sprint away from it, but it only gave me a lead for a moment. I was thankfully saved by a tractor trailer that came zooming up behind me. Sorry, dog, not today.
A few more miles into my trek to Scott City, I looked up and at the last second saw a dust tornado coming at me from my right. I stopped, had time to put only one got down before i felt the dust and small pebbles sting my face, and it then picked me up and the next thing i knew i was on the ground. There was a dried up weed in my bike tire. I could tell there would later be a bruise on my hip, but other than that i was just shaken up. A car had turned around to make sure i was ok. Really, the only thing i wanted was to look up at Lindsay and say "did that honestly just happen?" I asked the kind couple if that would happen again, they said probably not, so, instead of riding the tailwind back the few miles to the next town to refuge and safety i got back on my bike and faced the wind again. I was now, more than ever, determined to get to Scott city and not let the wind get the better of me. I honestly think Josh's words resonated in me everyone i got frustrated with the wind. His fight made mine seem much easier to endure, and insignificant.
Miles later, i looked up again just in time to see a skunk crossing the road. I slowed down, as i didn't have enough time to stop, and the skunk turned around to spray me. Luckily, the wind was so strong that it his spray was taken by the wind in the opposite direction before it hit me. I kind of just started cracking up at that point.. It was very much an "are you serious" kind of laugh.
I was exhausted and tired of putting so much effort into a stroke and having it seemed almost rejected by the wind. When i looked up next, (i kept my head down to keep my face out of the wind/make myself smaller for less resistance) i saw more feeding farms, with cows crammed in these tiny fences, and i forgot about the wind. It it's such a sad thing to see and i felt so bad for all of them. I wanted to free them (which would have probably made things wise for both the cows and i) so instead I try to eat chicken as much as possible now out here (although I'm sure that is not much of a different situation).
It occurred to me, as i was rolling into my destination, 106 miles later, that my frustration about the wind was slightly pointless, because i was wasting energy on something i could not change. And as i had threatened Lindsay with calling the D.O.T. and complain about their roads, who would i call about the wind? It wouldn't change anything about the current conditions anyway, but i would simply passing on my frustrations, my "problems" for someone to fix. It would be easier and less infuriating if i just accepted the fact that the wind is part nature, that it it's there and there it's nothing i can do about it. It becomes easier to focus on more important things.
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