Day 35: the man at the motel

For some odd, and incredibly annoying, reason, I just can't fall asleep on the nights of Recovery Days, so getting up this morning was almost near impossible. My intentions were to get up early, get organized, and head down to to breakfast by 6 and get on the road as early as possible and go as far as possible.... Instead, i waited to get out of bed until 6:30 and then took a 15 minute nap after breakfast. I realized at breakfast that it was drizzling out a bit and still a bit cold, so it was easy for me to find things to procrastinate with, like the map. About 100 miles away, there was a small town with few services but there was biker only camping at the church. I called to see if I would be able to stay there if i could make it that far. The Pastor was a riot. He owned the store in town and lived at the Parrish. With a thick mid Western accent, he told me he a dog that was really nice and there was a sheep that followed the dog around, but "that darn sheep, it has to stop eating the dog food because it is getting way too fat and i simply can't afford his habit anymore." I was immediately intrigued, and it was probably the only motivating factor of why i would want to make it to that town today, because my body was sluggish and needed a kick.

So i rolled out at around 9:00, completely bundled up and faced the headwinds (technically they were from the NE, but it felt more like East to me... Very little force from my left (North) side). It only took me a few miles to take off my fleece, but I wore a long sleeve shirt and my windbreaker for the rest of the day... It was very chilly! I would like to take a moment and talk about my windbreaker. The color of this jacket is the only thing that Lindsay and i disagreed on over the month that we were together, and I say that with certainty. I believe it is red, but she believes otherwise, and i was almost speechless when she told me: "i don't take you for a hot pink kind of girl, but I like that jacket." I almost had no idea what she was taking about at first because i thought it was clearly red. Then she started to point out things around us that were red and compare them, for example: "that truck is red, it doesn't match your jacket because the truck is not hot  pink." It was never really resolved. The other thing is that it had a "butt flap" that you sit on so the water spraying from the road/water from your tires doesn't make you shorts wet.... (it is an awful situation when that happens... Soggy shorts aren't fun shorts). Well, i as we pulled out of the gas station where i first put it on (right outside of Cedar City) all i could hear was Lindsay laughing. "i just can't take you seriously right now because it looks like you are wearing a hot pink leotard with a built in diaper." She lost it. She lost it every time I put it on, even after the 1st hail storm the night we stayed in the shower. So, in Lindsay's honor I didn't tuck the flap in today (even though it wasn't raining) and took a picture for her this morning, which i am including in tonight's blog.

At mile 6, I saw a dog wandering in the middle of the road, and a good sized one. Immediately, i was on defense mode after heading all of the horror stories about dogs chasing bikers, and getting chased by my first one the other day... And this one would have an advantage of starting from the road and not a lawn. I stopped my bike, and we had a stare down. I was secretly hoping that a car would come my way and i could use it as a diversion as the dog would be too afraid of the car to chase me. Naturally, all of the cars went in the opposite direction, or turned. I finally decided that i couldn't wait there all day (even though it had only been a few minutes), and decided to slowly pass him. We stared at each other as i crept by, and then free, took off, feeling extremely witty (even though i had nothing to do with the fact that the dog didn't feel like chasing me)

So Kansas doesn't stay flat. And to be honest, much of the day was spent wondering it was possible that I was going lower in elevation, but these "so called" rolling hills were only rolling up! I felt like i was tackling hills for much of the day... because the headwind just wasn't enough (only about 15 mph today, actually, not too too bad). The roads were horrendous, very rough and gravely. I was tired and frustrated, so i concentrated on my music and some podcasts, which I really love (for example, i leaned all about flesh eating bacteria today on "how stuff works") I also loved looking at the changing colors of the prairies. There were so many different shades of greens and yellows, and even blues and purples from the clouds.

Even more satisfying is that the cows had large pastures to roam that were rich in grass. Also, apparently I am a Cow Whisperer. Usually as I ride by a herd of cows the majority of them stop eating and look up and stare at me. Usually, i stare back or moo at them to try top elicit a response (never really works). Typically, the cows chewing the cud would stay put. But today, I was riding along a quiet road, and as i approached, all of the cows stood up and started walking towards me and huddled up to the fence. I know they probably wanted food, but i felt pretty cool at the time, not gonna lie... Like they could sense how much i detest the feeding farmers.  (the only thing i had to offer them, ironically, is beef ravioli)

I stopped for lunch in a small town hoping that i could grab some coffee or a warm meal, but there was nothing available. It is hard to sit outside and eat, even if i am bundled up, because my sweat dries and and the cool air is quick to chill me, so it is best to keep moving. I don't have much insulation these days, so if i wait too long, I get to the point of no return and can't warm again. I caught a bit of a tailwind on beautiful country roads with fields of beautiful horses. What majestic creatures  they are. I have had had quite the itch to ride one since starting this adventure, and would often give subliminal messages to Lindsay about going on trail rides in Utah (we had no place for our bikes, and were kind of on a time crunch). I feel like my attraction to riding horses is similar to my love of cycling. The feeling of speeding through the air, of freedom, of the sudden and beautiful connection with the world around you as you move air and become part of the wind. It is a moment when the rest of your life stops, and you can just be. I imagine you get that same rush while racing on a horse...

I saw some alpaca, and a deer farm. It was a great change of scenery from all of the cows, i must say, ( i really don't like the idea of captive deer, although a venison burger may have popped into my head at some point within the vicinity of the farm, i
cant lie).

I was just exhausted, and felt and thought i could just fall asleep as i was riding. The hills and the wind just wore me out, so, i called it quits in Eureka, Kansas, with 74 miles for the day, at the Carriage House motel.  I walked into the office and was grated by am elderly gentlemen and his two small dogs who were trying to bark as ferociously as a small poodle -like dog can. Finally, the man just grabbed the dog's head when it wouldn't stop baking and said to it "don't you know I am trying to listen and can't hear a thing when you are barking? Now be quiet." The man was tall, wearing black sweatpants and a worn cream colored sweater. You could tell that his health wasn't the greatest with his large belly, swollen arms, and a jaw that moved as though he had Parkinson's between his words. He was very excited to have me come in.

As I was filling out my information in this very old, un-modernized office with paperwork scattered, and bulky, load appliances, I started asking him about where to get food. There were a few places, and he also decided to add that a lot of bikers camp in the city park. I thanked him, but told him that it was hard being a young female travelling alone by bike, and that i was trying not to camp unless i had to in some of these towns. He nodded his head in understanding and then his eyes lit up as he said, "well my daughter, she ran track and always insisted running on doing her workouts at night- it drove me crazy. She was a good lookin' girl, so i just drove my car along as she ran. Couldn't bear the thought of anything bad happening to her." And then he paused, and asked "what does your father think about you doing this alone?" And after i got over the stab in my chest of wishing i could hear my dad actually say it, i said "i think he would absolutely love what i was doing... Maybe not alone, but he would think it was pretty great," and I told him about why i was standing in front of him, that it was my dad that brought me here. i went right back into asking him about his daughter. The twinkle in his eye quickly returned, and he started showing pictures of his grandkids and his daughter and told me all about them. And then i noticed his eyes were watering, "all i know is that i miss her." And as he looked up I could see a tear work itself out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't seen her in 5 years. It broke my heart.  We both had something in common, it seemed: we both had a void in our hearts.

He was a truck driver for most of his adult life. He said the trucks he used to drive had very little steering ability, and he would have to call the sheriff's office in certain towns so they could stop traffic so he could make a turn. He said his max speed was about 48 mph. He got pulled over once for going to slow because the wind was so strong it was slowed his truck. One time he was making his standard route from Seattle (he didn't say where he was going). "Now normally I could get there and back on one tank of fuel, but that day it took me a full tank just to get down there because the wind was so strong that my engine had to work twice as hard." Now, this was incredible to me but it is a great way for me to portray how taxing the wind is-even on a tractor trailer.  So you can imagine that the amount of extra effort you have to put forth to bike in strong winds is great. It is easier to imagine of how much extra food one might need to eat to have the energy to combat these brutal winds, if the truck needed twice as much fuel.

I was cold, exhausted, and hungry, but we continued our conversation.  i could tell he was lonely, and i kind of just let him talk and go from one story to another. I loved it.  We talked for an hour, as he explained instances in the wind, the snow, telling me  about Kansas. It was a reprieve for me after being on my bike all day in the countryside with no one else around, and i think it was a reprieve for him as well: he had someone that he could share these stories with.  It was if it brought him back to early, happier moments of his life, and his partially toothless, ear to ear grin was proof of it.  I felt privileged being the recipient of those stories, of being invited into his past, hearing and seeing his vulnerabilities.  Storytelling is an important part of life.  And while sometimes it is healing to be the teller, it can also be healing to be the listener, and your world gets a little bigger, a little richer.