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Sat, May 3: Topeka - Valley Falls, KS -- 26.1 miles, 1:40-3:50. Cool south wind, about 70. Time for a vacation day. After pushing so hard for eight days, getting behind on laundry, web logging, etc., I rented a car for 20
hours. It let me tool around Topeka last night, restock with a tire and tubes, stop at the library to upload my journal, and generally
get caught up. This morning I drove down to Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve and hiked in the Flint Hills. After lunch it was back on two wheels for a short ride into Valley Falls. Finally I enjoyed a wind mostly at my back as the road
headed north -- and I headed back nine years. In 1994, our walk had taken us through Valley Falls. Now I got to see a Main St.
that I recognized, but one that had changed. I chatted with the hardware store owner, who gave me the lowdown on the town, and
entertained a 7-yr-old girl as I sat changing another rear flat. Then it was off to set up the tent -- finally a chance to use the gear I
had portered for so long (and to try recapturing the flavor of the walk). Addendum, Sat night -- Yes, I recaptured the feeling, in spades. After reading until dark, I wasn't tired, so I headed to the local
watering hole. They had a live local band belting out 50s rock'n'roll and country-western until 2 a.m. -- and most of the band was
on the far side of 60 (the singer was apparently celebrating his 70th birthday). I listened for a while, watching the locals dance and
play pool. Then it was back to the tent for major deja vu. I remember a score of nights in MO and KS with thunder and lightning keeping
sleep at bay as we cowered in the tent. Now I can add one more. It sprinkled, it stopped, it poured, it thundered, it stopped, it
blew, it rained, etc, etc, etc. Just like 1994! For a week, this trip felt about as exciting as working out in a health club. Now, it's memorable. Twenty minutes after the last sprinkle (about 6:30 a.m.), I packed up the (nearly dry) tent, loaded the bike, and grabbed breakfast.
Soon I rediscovered what I had forgotten - this area is anything but flat! I made good time to Easton, but my speed suffered as a
headwind (and the hills) grew in Missouri. After lunch, another rear flat (the fourth in three days) delayed me outside Platte City - a
fortunate delay, it turned out. An hour later, as I coasted down another hill, a car pulled abreast of me and the driver yelled, "You'd
better take cover! They've got a tornado warning out for Platte City!" With the sky darkening, I figured I'd best heed his advice,
and stuck my thumb out for any pickup or SUV coming by. Soon Pat and Diane, coming home with groceries, squeezed me and
my bike in and headed home to check on their kids. The TV showed the tornado on the ground only ten miles south of us, heading
for my final destination. As we watched, the skies opened with rain pelting down.Thank heavens I wasn't cycling in that! We watched reports for two hours from the safety of their basement, until 'all clear' sounded and Pat could take me to my motel.
They were quite a fascinating couple: he's a stay-at-home dad, and she's in line for a VP position at Harley Davidson! Not a perfect day - but very good. The scenery was grand - some hills with the road winding among trees and houses, mixed with
miles of Missouri River bottomland tamed by farms. No clouds to block the sun, and the temperature soared to 80 degrees. A
constant wind, this time at my back, helped me cruise through the flats at 20 mph. Without a schedule, I rode further than
expected, and considered knocking off a century ride in record time -- but then I would have very little to ride tomorrow, when I
have to stop in Monroe City. The day's biggest disappointment: silly ordinances prohibited me from camping in town, on a perfect
night for it (believe me, missing this hotel room would NOT have been a loss). If nothing else, I'm learning a lot about how to predict for these trips. This was my ninth day of biking after Sue left me in
Goodland, and it turned into a real low-energy, low-enthusiasm day - just like my ninth day of biking last year. Thankfully I finished
by 2:00, before the rain moved in. Now I'm left wondering if I'm talking at the high school tomorrow. My contact said he saw 'no
problem' for that last time we spoke, but he was out-of-town today and his secretary knows nothing about it. Today was an M day - magnificent, marvelous, magical - what a trip like this should be like. I started the day talking with one class at Monroe City High - the principal arranged for me to speak to the 'Murder Mystery, and
Mayhem' class. Man, I never had fun classes like that when I was in school!! There was one student who asked plenty of
questions. Have I inspired a new adventurer? After class I enjoyed a high-speed (tailwind) ride east to Hannibal, where I took a break to see Mark Twain monuments: his
boyhood home, 'Becky Thatcher's house', the drug store, etc. Then it was riding the bridge (imagine! an interstate highway
signposted as a bike route!) spanning the mighty Mississippi into Illinois - and a whole different standard of friendly. Exiting the interstate, I got directions that started me on 43 miles of unmarked county roads. I stopped in Payson for lunch, where I
encountered the typical table full of locals, drinking strong coffee and swapping farmer fables. However, instead of giving me
sidelong glances and talking about me after I moved on, this group opened up right away. "You can't bike to Hawaii!" one greeted,
starting a conversation. Another told me about good back roads to the next town. In Liberty, my stop provoked conversations
with the clerk and all the customers wandering through, and a new set of back-road directions. This time they led to a road
ominously posted, "Closed 7 miles ahead - Local traffic only." Two people I stopped, though, guessed I could get through, so I
stayed straight - found the bridge out when I hit the golf course. As I stood there pondering how long a detour this would cost me,
a golf pro saw my consternation and said, "Looking for a way around? Just go down the cart path here, cross over on that little
bridge, and walk your bike over the fairway back to the road." As I pedalled the miles between the towns, my sky-high mood brought on a spell of creativity, and soon I had composed the day's
theme song. Sing along to the tune of "I've Been Working on the Railroad": I've been biking on the farm roads, I'm Chicago bound, Nature won't you blow, nature won't you blow, blow good weather my way-ay-ay These roads sure have the ups- and down-hills, they aren't flat I know-oh-oh, I've been biking on the farm roads, all the live-long day After the golf course, I had one more friendly stop, then a long stretch into a headwind (back on a regular highway), ending with
six heavenly miles with the wind pushing me into Augusta. There I discovered that NO towns along this stretch of highway have
motels. Two stops in town were all it took to secure permission to camp at the Lion's Club park, where I set up my tent after
dinner. While erecting my nylon castle, local kids wandered over to hang out. "You biking across the country?" they asked,
amazed. After detailing my trek, one asked, "Are you good at basketball? You want to play?" Basketball was never my sport, but
I joined in for twenty minutes until they lost interest. Then I headed back to the diner and the Quick-Stop for pie and to while away
the evening (and, of course, more conversation with the locals). Before the night ended, one man asked for my website so he could
track my trip. The morning crew at the Dinner Pail in Augusta started my day with more conversation and a free breakfast (after a perfect night
for camping - dry, no wind). Too bad the rest of the day wasn't as nice. The sun never made an appearance, and the temps kept
me from ever warming up. After lunch the rains finally caught up to me, following me into Monmouth. At least I had a warm
reception at my cousin's place, where we watched the hail come down as we supped on steak (and asparagus picked fresh from
their back yard). Today must have been the reward (or the consolation) for suffering all those days of headwinds. Winds from the west boosted my
speed to the highest average I've ever hit for a full day - 18.7 mph. When you account for slowing down in every town I passed
thru, I must have averaged over 20 mph in the open country (for roughly 80 miles).At most every stop, people asked how far I'd
come - and then called their friends over to amaze them too. I had hoped to turn a century today, but the towns weren't positioned right. If I skipped the motel in Princeton, I would have
needed another 20 miles to find the next one. Now I hope that the winds don't shift, and make me regret not having pushed on
tonight. Not a great showing on the penultimate day of this trip, but not nearly as bad as it could have turned out... Clouds filled the
morning sky, and the Weather Channel showed significant rain bearing down on us. Before I could pack the bike after breakfast,
the drops started falling. No problema! I kicked off my shoes, pulled out my book, and waited it out in the motel. When the rain
stopped at 10:40, I hit the (wet) roads. By noon, the sun had emerged and burned away the lingering fog., leaving a warm (and
sticky) day. US34 was a great road until Somonauk, when the traffic got too busy for my taste. Around the same time most of the farms
disappeared, leaving strip malls, car dealers, stop lights, and the ilk. Still, I made good time, even with a breeze that blew mostly to
my side. It's fitting, I suppose, that this trek nicknamed 'the Tornado Tour' should end with another tornado warning for my county last
night, and with wind gusts up to 60 mph during today's ride.The first 2/3 mile leaving the hotel had me pedalling into the wild wind,
with gust slowing me to 5 mph - on a bike with no gear loading me down (I sent my bags ahead to my cousin's last night). Despite
the leaden skies that spit rain before I finished, despite the thermometer that started at 48 degrees and didn't climb noticeably,
despite howling winds, it was a good ride. I took the Illinois Prairie Path from Aurora into Elmhurst. This trail, one of the country's
first rails-to-trails conversions, got me off the roads in favor of tree-lined gravel and paved paths. Of course, the wind had done its
damage - a dozen times I had to dismount to drag my bike under, over, or around downed trees. After the ride, I had time to relax
with relatives, see the house in which I celebrated my first five birthdays, and relish successfully finishing another long, satisfying
journey. Of course, the journey isn't complete until I talk to the last school. The Edison School in Elmhurst gave me a wonderful reception,
juffling thier schedules to fit me in. The students took a shine to my adventures, and asked many questions. The teachers and
prinicipal took an interest in my epics, and one teacher treated me to a delicious lunch. Now it's time to fly back to Denver, dive
back into the work-a-day world ... and dream fondly on finishing this jaunt next spring, cycling to the Atlantic. Until then! | |