The Awkward Pose

Start:  Dodge City, KS

Finish: Woodward, OK

Weather:  102 degrees, sunny

Bike Time: 11 hours

Miles:  111

Distance to date: 758

My third century in four days; I sure will be glad when the motel towns get closer.

Aside from riding a long time, today was a great day.   I left Dodge City at dawn, rolled past the Cargill meat processing plant (where the trucks are labeled ‘Meat Solutions’ which I thought an odd slogan, since Cargill is at the heart of most of our meat problems), the original Fort Dodge and Coronado’s cross (commemorating Coronado’s expedition through the Arkansas River valley in 1541 in search of the riches of  the Querecho civilization, who just turned
out to be the Wichita Indians).  Within a few miles the plateau of the High Plains fell away, as well as the associated irrigation
from the Ogallala Aquiver, leaving the detritus of industrial agriculture, giant sprinklers, feedlots and meat packing plants, behind me.  I was back in rolling terrain with fields of
hay and wheat subject to the vagaries of rainfall; less productive land perhaps, but more beautiful to be sure.

I had 110 miles to go to Woodward, the nearest place I knew had a motel, and 75 miles to Buffalo, OK, where I knew there was a café, so I had four liters of water and a passel of power bars in case nothing else turned up.  Fortunately there was a nice restaurant in Ford, KS so I had a second breakfast early on, just to reinforce the belly.  Good thing I did, because the next food or drink of any kind was 60 miles away, in Buffalo, OK.  The day as warm but the breeze light, no construction due to being Saturday, and I made good time.

Shorty’s Café in Buffalo was worth the journey.  The waitresses
practically swooned on me, filled my empty water bottles and put them in the freezer while I ate, served up a basket of barbeque with smothered onions, fried okra and a warm cinnamon bun for dessert, along with giant mason jars of water and diet coke.  I was fortified for my final 34 miles, which was good because the afternoon winds picked up – straight at
me – and the final third was a grind.

Yesterday I battled winds while following the Santa Fe Trail, and commiserated with the ancient pioneers.  Today my wind experience was all about the future.  Oklahoma, with the oil it has extracted from beneath the surface running thin, has invested big time in wind energy, and there are immense wind farms lining the ridges of northwest Oklahoma.  I watched the farms for over ten miles.  As I approached they grew larger and larger, until I realized there are multiple sizes of turbines lining the ridges, many over 100 feet tall.  The dance of the blades, moving at different rhythms across the land, created mesmerizing patterns.  If the early pioneers became insane from the endless wind, these towering monsters simply induce dizziness.  I took dozens of photos of them, the tall,
stark forms with their industrial grey shadows reminded me of objects in Charles Sheeler paintings, but alas my camera could not capture how they command their bluff.

The turbines are a majestic presence, but unfortunately I could not figure out how to harness them to propel me forward, so I battled the wind with my legs alone and drifted into Woodward around 7:00 pm, tired but glad of my adventure.

Liquid statistic – I consumed 16 ounces of orange juice, 80 ounces of diet coke, and more than 300 ounces of water today.  That is over 3 gallons of fluids!

Signs of where live leads in Buffalo, OK

Turbines along the ridge of the North Canadian River Valley

Start:  Garden City, KS

Finish: Dodge City, KS

Weather:  95 degrees, sunny

Bike Time: 6 hours

Miles:  58

Distance to date: 647

Any number of sayings could apply to me today.  ‘Be careful what you wish for.’  ‘The most difficult things are the ones you least expect.’ ‘Some days you’re the windshield, some days you’re the bug.’

I slept in, left late, figured 50 miles to Dodge City would be a breeze.  It turned out to be the most difficult cycling of my trip, except maybe for Vail Pass.  I cruised along the top of the world out of Garden City, an ant scampering on the picnic table of life, flat and broad with food popping up all around me.  The plain hollowed out in a dip and I got sucker punched in the stomach with a headwind that would not quit, and road construction as well.  Twenty miles of grinding pedaling, dancing over the pebbles strewn across the shoulder or shaking like a jack hammer over the scarified pavement.

All ended with sweetness and delight when I hit Cimarron, KS at noon and discovered Clark’s Drug Store, with full soda fountain and cheerful blonde waitresses who insisted on filling my water bottles with ice water.  I had strawberry, the ‘it’ flavor among the toddler set according to my niece Isabel and nephew Owen.

The last eighteen miles to Dodge had no construction, but the brutal wind kept at me.  I arrived at my motel near three, but after a dip in the pool, I felt terrific again.

I rolled back into town for sightseeing.  Dodge City is a small time tourist trap, but great fun. The gun fight reenactment at the Boot Hill Museum is both corny and cool, the extensive exhibits are fun, the character actors really get into their parts.
The rest of Dodge is a dusty Ag town, except for a superb train station turned theater, circa 1890‘s and a gem of a Carnegie Library, now the Dodge City Arts Council Gallery.  I happened
upon a reception with a great show of local artists and live piano performance of a few flawless rags.

So much of the history emphasizes the harsh brutality of the plains, how the endless stretches of land and ceaseless wind drove settlers insane.  The wind is not an obvious threat, like a storm or cold or flood, yet it threatens by being so insidious.  I realized my five hours of pedaling against the behemoth was but a taste of prairie life.

Ice Cream Soda at Clark Drug in Cimarron, KS

Start:  Lamar, CO

Finish: Garden City, KS

Weather:  90 degrees, overcast

Bike Time: 10 hours

Miles:  112

Distance to date: 589

I am beginning to get the hang of this – travel early, stop often.  Today I logged thirty miles in the cool morning, then stopped for a sumptuous breakfast at Jack and Wanda’s Tasty Café in Holly,
CO.  Unfortunately, I was the only customer, while the convenience store with the Subway across the street was packed with pick-ups.

Soon after breakfast I crossed into Kansas.  The topography always seems to change with the state line, but given that this state line is arbitrary, perhaps it is our preconceptions that color what we experience.  Kansas is still wide open, but more comforting than Colorado, more domestic. The towns are closer together, you are rarely out of range of at least one abode on the horizon, and the grain silos in the distance are reminiscent of the hulking form that Dorothy and crew first glimpse as the Emerald City.

No sooner does Kansas comfort with its hominess than I understand it is an industrial comfort. Colorado had few cows, but the ones it had were grazing on the range. Kansas has huge fields of grain and thousands of cattle, but the beasts are penned in feedlots, great tracks of mud speckled with black and white hides.  The land in Kansas has been tamed at an institutional scale.  Even the underground is controlled; there are pump houses and pipeline valves that sprout in chain link
cages along the highway every few miles, each clicking along as it monitors the flow of oil, natural gas, and whatever else we pulse through the land.

Highway 50 is grand for cycling. The shoulder is a good eight feet wide.  It follows the original Santa Fe Trail, so there are historical markers to boot; each one I visit.  There are places where you still see the ruts of the wagons from over 150 years ago.  The logistics of traversing this land were easy compared to the mountains of Colorado; the perils were other people.  The
Arkansas River, which parallels the route, was the border between the US and Mexico in the early 1800’s, and the Pawnees claimed the whole area, so there were three groups vying for supremacy.

I was lucky to have cloud cover much of the day, cross winds as opposed to head winds (Murphy’s law of bicycles is that you never get tailwinds) and Kansas is famously flat, so the miles passed easily, This was good, because there were a lot of miles before I found a motel on the industrial east side of Garden City.  Actually, Garden City must have been named by
the same bloke who named Greenland because the north side and the west side seem industrial as well.  The city is brown
with fine dust, noisy pick-ups and a slew of Hispanics.  I capitalized on the situation by eating dinner at a former fast food place turned taco /seafood emporium.  The counter waitress spoke no English, the menu had no prices, I ordered the taco/burrito platter with Carnitas. It was immense and incredibly delicious.  It turned out to cost $6.95 plus the cost of a Modelo; a Kansas experience that fell well outside my preconceptions of the place.

Sprinklers ouside of Garden City, KS

Start:  Limon, CO

Finish: Lamar, CO

Weather:  100 degrees, sunny

Bike Time: 10 hours

Miles:  118

Distance to date: 477

There are no hotels between Limon and Lamar, and only one restaurant at a mid-point, so I knew today would be a long slog.   Fortunately, the ride was more downhill than up, and the shoulder along US 287 is terrific for cyclists.  Unfortunately the headwinds from the South beat at me all afternoon and the highway is a major trucking route.

When I pictured this trip in my mind, I always envisioned riding through the High Plains, a landscape I came to love the year I lived in West Texas.  Today, I got a full dose of that landscape, at a pace I had never experienced before.
People drive through the High Plains – fast.  It is vast and slow changing, some would say boring, yet I consider it a subtle space, where small variations reflect important distinctions.  Absorbing it at 12 miles per hour, as opposed to 65, reveals those distinctions.

Limon to Kit Carson, the first 62 miles, was easy. The morning was bright, the sky clear, my only shade came from the passing semis. The landscape gave over from tall grass to scrubby plants, it turned sandy, the horizons extended.

I was really hungry the last ten miles, but was rewarded for not snacking by a terrific chicken fried steak sandwich with fries – my second in two days.  Chicken fried steak has never made it on any menus in New England, but I love it, and since I am cycling like mad, the dilemma of how to work off a piece of steak, breaded and deep fried, then mounted on a bun and surrounded by fries, is really no problem at all.

The moment I stepped out of the restaurant I felt like a scone on the baking sheet of the High Plains – dry and crusty.  The temperature was at least 100 degrees but the humidity had fled for the coast.  It took some time to gather enough speed to
develop a breeze, then the head winds came at me full force and I had more breeze than I could handle.

Now I traversed long stretches of near horizontal land.  I had to stop every few miles to drink, and each time realized how much tiny wild life lives out here.  Once I upset a hoard of grasshoppers that rustled away, another time I set my bike near a swarming colony of red ants.  The Plains look barren, but they
ooze life.

After a three o’clock rest stop at the IGA in Eads and a long chat with the manager who doubles as the bag boy, the environment changed again.  Now there were undercurrents of cool air
accenting the headwinds, and the benevolent puffs of cloud that floated through the noon sky like anime creatures took on swirling shapes, grew wide and dark, the first forms of storm.  By four o’clock the darkest clouds in the distance created funnels of rain with lightening piercing the blurring streaks across the sky.  As yesterday, I was spared the worst of the
storms, but marveled how they formed, struck havoc, and dissipated around me.

I did not arrive in Lamar until after six pm, a bit too much riding for one day, but happy to have had such a complete experience of this land most of us simply whiz by.

Afternoon Thunderstorms Approaching Lamar, CO

Start: Denver, CO

Finish: Limon, CO

Weather:  90 degrees, sunny, afternoon thunderstorms

Bike Time: 9 hours

Miles:  95

Distance to date: 359

“What’s past is prologue.”                Wm. Shakespeare, The Tempest

Today the real journey began, and it was complete in every sense.

My brother Tim started the day with me.  We biked 42
miles out of Denver, along the beautiful Cherry Creek Trial, until it ended before the map indicated and we struck out on county roads using the sun as our guide, climbing through gentle horse country until we hit highway 86 and headed east to Elizabeth.

After lunch Tim went back to Denver and I struck east on 86 by myself – 53 miles to Limon.  I shed the Rockies behind me.  The landscape was the ancient seabed that formed this area, the land rolling waves, the cottonwoods in creek beds anemone at the bottom, the clouds whitecaps above.  I must have traversed twenty or more swales, pedaling to the top, cresting, and surfing the pavement on straightaway descents.  Each swale got a little broader, a little flatter, a little more barren, until finally, by the time I reached Limon, the waves were spent.  The Rockies had met the shore.

There was road construction along the way.  The traffic
guards took delight in this lone cyclist, and waved me through each one lane segment, holding up the few other vehicles there were so that I could keep moving.  Where there was no construction the road was pitted and bumpy, as I approached
Limon a cross wind picked up and whistled thorough my spokes; on the penultimate crest my rear tire went flat.  I walked to a dirt crossing and changed the tire.  In the 20 minutes it took to do it (it was my first time) the hot day turned cool, the wind grew fierce, and thunderstorms
developed all around. I got back on the bike before even a drop hit me but still had fifteen miles to go. For the next hour I rode in the donut hole of the scattered storms – distant rain and thunder but very little on me.

When I checked in to the Safari Inn ($58 including Wi-Fi, continental breakfast and a swimming pool the size of a panel truck) the clerk told me they had a drenching downpour
just before I arrived.  Lucky me!

The Ancient Sea Bed of eastern Colorado

Start:  Copper Mountain, CO

Finish: Leadville, CO

Weather:  70 degrees, cloudy

Bike Time: 3.5 hours

Miles:  33

Distance to date: 264

Today was a half day on the Courage Classic; an eight mile ride up Fremont Pass, then a glide into Leadville and a scenic tour around the back side of town, along the edge of Turquoise Lake.

At 10,200 feet, Leadville has a growing season of only 32 days, but fortunately for us we hit the right time.  The wild flowers are everywhere, fields of blue and red, white and purple.  The high altitude makes the colors very intense.

Tim, Sherwin, Kaycie, Paul (or Shorty) and John at Fremont Pass

Start:  Copper Mountain, CO

Finish: Copper Mountain, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 80 degrees

Bike Time: 9 hours

Miles:  85

Distance to date: 231

I was solo today.  For various reasons everyone opted for the 35 mile ‘Family Ride’ but I shot for the century, which turned out to be only 85 miles.  A full day of biking from Copper though Frisco, Silverthorne, out to Ute Pass, Dillon, Keystone, Breckinridge, and back through Frisco to Copper.  I felt great, the bike felt great.

Riding in and around these towns makes one realize how ‘new’ everything is in Colorado.  These towns were crossroads
that had trading posts or rail junctions or ranches until well into the 1960’s and 70’s. The conjunction of the interstate highway, skiing as pleasure sport and American affluence these places bigger boom towns in the 1990’s and 2000’s than they ever were during the rounds of gold, iron, and copper fever that created their economic base in earlier times.

Start:  Leadville, CO

Finish: Copper Mountain, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 80 degrees

Bike Time: 8 hours

Miles:  61

Distance to date: 146

Today was the first day of the Courage Classic, a three day fund raiser through the mountains for the Denver Children’s Hospital.   Members of my family have been doing this ride for more than ten years.  Coming to Denver to do this ride was the generator of my entire bike adventure.

More than 2,000 cyclists converged on Leadville (Elevation 10,200, the highest town in America) on the brilliant morning.  It was a cool 45 degrees as we headed down the route through a beautiful mountain meadow and then rose up to Tennessee Pass (10,400 feet), where we crossed the Continental Divide.  We enjoyed over ten miles of downhill, rolling through the Pando Valley, where Camp Hale and the Tenth Mountain Division were based during World War II. The scenery was
breathtaking, from the gigantic mountains to the fragile wild flowers.  Fortunately my breath was in good shape after
days of drinking gallons of water (and no alcohol).  At this altitude there is only 60% of the oxygen I enjoy in Boston, but I avoided getting an altitude headache.

We took a serious uphill climb to conquer Battle Mountain, my first time diving into my lowest gear.  I actually do better on the
uphill climbs, which I just grind out, than the downhill portions.  I hit speeds up to 30 mph on the widest areas, but I was getting passed all the time by cyclists who go 40, even 50
downhill.

From Battle Mountain, we did another 10 miles downhill to Vail (Elevation 7,700 feet), had lunch, and then had to pay for all of our coasting.

Vail Pass is an 18 mile stretch of uphill that has two distinct components.  The first eleven miles is a steady rise to 8,500 feet, and then there is a seven mile stretch that climbs to over 10,500 feet – up and up and up.  The trail is the old US 40, now decommissioned.  It is probably beautiful if you look around, but most of us had our heads down grinding out the climb.

The last four miles is a tranquil descent through a mountain valley with a creek alongside.  It is remarkably serene considering that it runs through the middle of I-70, which is separated by almost a half a mile in this section, with westbound on our left and east bound on our right

The day was a total success except that my brother Tim noticed my rear wheel was out of alignment on the final section. I spent over an hour in the bike repair tent back at Copper where a sweet guy adjusted and trued the wheel.  He thinks the wheel is not up to the loads I am carrying.  This is at odds with the
recommendation of the guys where I bought the bike.   Disappointing news, but all part of why I wanted to take a shake-down week before I taking off where there are limited
services.  I will ride tomorrow with careful attention to the wheel; it may need attention when I return to Denver.

On top of Battle Mountain with Tim and John

Start:  Denver, CO

Finish: Evergreen CO

Weather:  Sunny, 90 degrees

Bike Time: 3.5 hours

Miles:  29

Distance to date: 85

I loaded up this morning as if I were venturing on my own, my full set of saddlebags, water bottles, lock, the whole deal, and set off across Denver and up into the foothills, where I was going to meet my brother in route to Copper Mountain.  The first half of the ride was through Beaver Creek Trail, a bike trail that winds through Denver from the South Platte, rising slowly to the Beaver Creek Dam, where it leads to Morrison, the first of the foothill towns.   From Morrison I took my first serious up hills, past Red Rock Canyon, onto US 40 (which is practically empty due to the adjacent Interstate 70), through Genesee to Evergreen.  Eight miles going straight up.  I was a heavy vehicle, but hit the McDonalds along I-70 by 11 am, plenty of time to catch my ride to Copper.

Start:  Denver, CO

Finish: Denver, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 90 degrees

Bike Time: 3.5 hours

Miles:  36

Distance to date: 56

Denver is a cyclist’s paradise. The city has over 850 miles of paved bicycle trails, a network of designated bicycle routes marked along city streets, a system of bicycle share locations throughout the city, and bicycle racks on city buses and trains.  Bicyclists are everywhere; business men with briefcases, fitness junkies, Hispanics in custodian uniforms, blue-haired grandmothers, and moms with their kids in tow.  The network builds upon itself.  Since riding is convenient and safe, more people ride, and the more people ride, the more the automobile drivers are
aware of, and respectful of, cyclists.  After only two days, I feel
more comfortable riding around Denver than I do in Cambridge, and much more comfortable than I do in Boston.

I wondered whether this network made a dent in our overall energy consumption.  According to the Bicycle Resolution of the US Conference of Mayors, the average bicycle commuter saves $1825 per year in auto related costs, reduces their annual carbon emissions by 128 pounds, conserves 145 gallons of gasoline and avoids 50 hours of gridlock.  Currently bicycle commuting makes up less than 1% of all commutes, but if we could nudge that number up by only ½ a percent, the US could save 462 million gallons of gasoline.

There is, of course, another upside to bicycle commuting, which is personal fitness.  Colorado boasts the lowest obesity rate in
America (19.8% according to a 2011 Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Study, versus a whopping 34.4% for top ranked Mississippi).  Colorado is now the only state with less than 20% obesity.  Bicycling helps contribute to that good rating, though it is hardly a number worth cheering about.  Twenty years ago no state had an obesity rate over 15%.  We are getting fat faster than we are getting fit.

Still, Denver’s bike friendly ways are a welcome alternative to driving in cars.  Today I cycled along the path that runs north/south along the South Platte River.  Denver has had an unusually wet summer and the Platte is flowing strong, with dozens of small waterfalls.  The trail runs through residential, urban, industrial and pastoral districts.  It is both functional and beautiful.    The trail is well marked, smoothly paved, and ducks under cross streets.  It is wonderful on a 90 degree day to dip into an underpass, catch some shade, and get a cool breeze off the roaring river.  In two locations there was construction
and the bike path had well signed, dedicated detours which sent the message to me that in Denver, bikes are equal to cars.
It is a message that resonates strong with me.

South Platte River Bike Trail – Denver, CO