After a wonderful, restful interlude at the home of my relatives, George and Kristin Karakehian, I bid my farewells and started, once again, the journey to Raleigh.  It is amazing how, at the rate of 50-70 miles per day, one slowly but surely makes progress.

Today has two goals in mind.  I was to meet my father's cousin, Waunita Berkman, and her husband, Stan, for lunch somewhere.  I also was to end the day at the home of one of my fraternity brothers, Greg Mikkelsen.  (Luckily for Greg, he married a terrific lady, Joan, otherwise who knows how he would have turned out :-).  The total distance was estimated at 60 miles.  The day was supposed to be hot, in the mid to upper 90's.

The oddity about this day and the next three days is that I really had no plan as to how I was going to arrive at Tribune, Kansas, on day five.  It was only the night before, at dinner, that staying at Mikkelsens became a possibility.  So the actual route was not established, unlike the first 37 days of this trip.  This made it difficult to plan a specific time to meet Stan and Waunita for lunch, although they made it easy by driving. 

There was a long climb out of Boulder, followed by other lesser hills.   I was to meet the Berkmans in Morrison, CO.  Little did I know that there was a long climb before Morrison.  It rained briefly, but hard, and then I was in town.  I arrived late, around 12:30 PM.  We had a wonderful lunch, then I had to figure out the best way to get to Greg and Joan's house.

A group of bicyclers deferred to one of their group to give directions, and she directed me to a bike trail which I followed for over 20 miles.  Unfortunately, once I got near the road that lead south to the Mikkelsens, the bike trai changed and headed north.  Also unfortunately, I didn't realize this for a while.  One lesson learned on this trip is don't be afraid to ask for help if it is necessary, so I stopped at a house whose garage doors were open, indicating someone being home.  As I started up to the door, a lady walked out of the garage.  She not only gave me directions but also filled my water bottle and gave me a spare water bottle, which was needed.  The projected 60 miles ended up being 72.

Reservations for dinner were for 6 PM.  I arrived at the Mikkelsens around 6 PM.  They had moved the reservations back to 7 PM, leaving me time to shower and change.  Another fraternity brother, Al Ogden, and his wife, Peggy, showed up, and the five of us went to this beautiful restaurant overlooking the valley, and had the feast of kings.  It was great fun reliving old times and catching up on past schoolmates.

Tomorrow, I will be heading to Limon, CO, which appears to be some 50 miles east.  I will try to worship somewhere this morning.  It will be interesting to see if my bright clothing and bike shorts give any raised eyebrows.

In three days I will be in Kansas.  Tonight, I will be approximately halfway across America.

Will McMahan

Mikkelsens have a beautiful home and I was in bed by

Will:

<> I have enjoyed following your trip.  It is an amazing journey.  I am looking foward to your visit in Manhattan.  Say hello to all the family in Colorado.

Cherie Hodgson 

Mood:  energetic

Today, I ride to Boulder. It will be less than 40 miles and should be mostly downhill.  Unfortunately, you have to climb out of Estes Park first.  It is a 2+ mile climb, but then it is mostly descending.  My plan was to leave by 8 AM, and I hoped to be at the house of my cousin, Kristin, around noon. 

At 7:58 AM, I waved good bye to Dick, and left Estes Park.  The climb out was not unlike countless other climbs that I had made this trip, and the day's rest restored my energy.  Soon I was coasting downhill.

It is said that Boulder is the Bicycle Capital of the United States.  That may be true.  The weather sure cooperates in making it more pleasant to be out pedalling.  I saw an incredible number of bicyclers on the road, none of them touring, all of them getting their exercise in for the day. 

In Lyons, CO, the terrain started to change, but, regardless, this is still a beautiful area.  Following Kristin's directions, I arrived at her house a little after 11 AM.

One critical objective in Boulder is to get my bike checked out and serviced.  With a bike shop 5 blocks away, I rode down there.  As luck would have it, there was a momentary quiet spell, and they were ready, willing and able to check things out.  I also had them install new tires and tubes for the balance of the trip.  The bike checked out fine.  The chain was degreased and re-oiled.  I am ready for the rest of the trip.

My plan is to stay in Boulder through the Fourth of July, then leave on Saturday, July 5th, circumventing Denver to the south, and work my way over about a third of the way up the Kansas border.

My mileage is approaching 1,800  miles.  By Sunday evening, I will, mileage-wise, be halfway to Raleigh.

The body is fully rested.  I am looking forward to seeing Boulder.  On the evening of the 4th, I will be dining with two of my fraternity brothers and their wives (I think the wives are to prevent them from reverting back to their college behavior), and I am looking forward to seeing them.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

All was going according to plan.  I slept well, arose at 4:45 AM, did devotions, packed and was out the door by 5:30 AM.  There are several cafes in Grand Lake that open at 6 AM, but I had forgotten that this was Sunday.

Every place that I stopped at did not open until 7 AM.  They had "Open" signs up, but I guess they were permanent signs, left up all night.  I asked a local who replied that I might try the "Black Bear Cafe".  I did and it was closed.  Turning around, I decided to walk around the lake a bit, and wait until 7 AM.  Hearing a noise behind me, I turned, and the door the the Black Bear Cafe was propped open.  I asked if they were open.  He replied "We are now."  It had not yet been 6 AM when I tried the door.  So I had the perfect breakfast for this assault of Trail Ridge.

At 6:45 AM I entered the National Park.  At 7 AM, I pulled up to the gates.  Even though the park is open 24 hours a day, the gates aren't staffed until 7 AM.  Normal fee is $20.  Bicyclers, I learned, can enter for free. 

I asked the ranger what was the distance to the Visitor's Center, which was near the top.  He said 20 miles.  This is critical information since I like to know how many miles to the top (or at least somewhat close to the top) so that I could check my progress.  I had been told that the first part of the 20 miles would be relatively flat, then the climbing would start somewhere between 7-10 miles past the gate.

The park is beautiful.  Because it was so early there was little traffic, and the elk were active.  I saw a number of them, some close up.  Three males, each with antlers, were on the side of the road when I approached slowly.  They crossed in front and entered the woods.  They were much larger than I had realized.

My strategy for the climb was to just buckle down, averaging 4-4.5 mph, and take a break every hour.  If it worked, I would be at the Visitor's Center in 3-4- hours of climbing, depending on whether it was 10 miles or 13 miles of climbing.  As the miles on the flat section progressed, it became clear that it would be 10 miles, not 13.  Hurray!

The climbing started.  It was going almost exactly as I had hoped.  My legs had felt a bit weak early in the morning, but now felt strong.  At four miles, I took a break.  At 8 miles I took a break.  Still feeling strong.  I broke out of the treeline and could see, way up on the side of the mountain, the visitor's center.  The road curved way off the the left for quite a ways, then made a sharp turn and, still climbing went up to the visitors center.  I passed a sign that said "You are two miles above sea level.  10,560 feet".  Because of the elevation gain needed to get to the top over such a short number of miles, there were no level spots, just climbing:  some steep parts, some not so steep parts.  I continued up the road as it angled left, knowing that it would still be quite some time before arriving at the visitor's center.  I was getting tired but still feeling fine, feeling for the first time the effect of the high altitude.  I reached the hairpin turn leading up to the visitor's center, probably 1/4 to 1/2 mile away, when the roof started to cave in.

A combination of events created alot of consternation on my part, which created physical difficulties.  The traffic, by now, was getting heavy.  When the road angled up to the left, the mountainside was on my right, but as I rounded the hairpin turn to the right, I was, all of a sudden, on the unprotected side of the road.  It was narrow, with a 4 inch shoulder, and a sharp 60-70 degree drop off, with no guard rails.  For the first time, I became scared.  When I go slower than 5 mph,and when I am nervous, I tend to wobble a bit, and several times I wobbled perilously close to the edge of the road.  Traffic was lined up behind me.  I was having a hard time getting the needed amount of oxygen into my lungs.  My stomach was starting to get nauseous.  When I reached the Visitor's Center, I stopped on the side, and walked the bike into the parking lot, which was large and full of cars and people.  My breathing was hard for the 15 minutes that I was there, not back to normal even when I resumed my ride.  There was still more climbing for perhaps another mile or so, I wasn't sure.

My new strategy was to forget about trying to be polite to the cars behind me, and stick close to the center of my lane, a reasonable distance from the sheer drop on the side.  It worked, and not one driver showed displeasure by honking or shouting.  As I reached what I thought was the top, I rounded the corner and the road kept going up, seemingly forever.  At this point I am in sort of an automatic, emergency mode:  just pedalling;  not thinking too clearly;  trying to stay safe.  At least three times, maybe more, I don't even remember, I had to pull over and stop to catch my breath for a couple of minutes.  To go from such strength to such weakness was discouraging and humbling.  But at some point, shortly after a stop for a breather, I started to descend.  Estes Park was 15 miles away.  There was a small climb near the bottom but nothing serious.  My leg strength is gone but I'm safe.  I did Trail Ridge.  And I am only a few miles from the home of my cousin, Dick Cross.  He is waiting for me.

But I made it!  Trail Ridge and all of the other mountain passes and Continental Divides became things of the past.  I lost track of the number of mountain passes-it was more than the 14 I had originally projected.  The Continental Divide was crossed 6-8 times.  Now it will mainly be rolling hills.  The steepness of the hills will increase from southern Illinois into Kentucky, Virginia and North Carolina, but they are a ways off.

Dick, my cousin, was waiting in the driveway when I walked the bike up the hill (my legs had given out on me) and he graciously opened up his refrigerator and prepared a large meal.  I was in bad need of a shower and took care of that next.  Dick's brother, Greg, showed up and the three of us went out for dinner in Estes Park.  Surprisingly I was still hungry.  We had a great time.

Tomorrow will be a rest day in Estes Park.  Dick is going to show me the sights around the area, and his sister, Richelle, and her husband, Dave, would come over for dinner.  Tuesday morning, after a full day's rest, I would depart for Boulder. 

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

As I looked at the map of today's travels, I put together a plan on how I was going to tackle it.  First breakfast in Walden.  There was a town 22 miles up the road called Rand.  It had a restaurant and a grocery.  It might be early to eat again so soon, but even a light meal would help fuel my climb of Willow Creek Pass, 10.5 miles out of Rand.  Then downhill, and eat again in Granby.  Then I would only be 13-14 miles from my stop for the night.

It is a typical morning, like all of the past mornings.  Sunny, clear skies, chilly because it is 7 AM.  I spot Doug Rood as I am returning from the cafe, and we say our goodbyes.  Then it is off, down the road. 

Boy, is it pretty.  This time I saw lots of deer.  Two of them, startled by the bicycle, ran parallel to the road, then jumped the fence crossed the road, then jumped the other fence, and fled to safety.  Later I saw one of those plastic owls on a pole.  Upon turning around and looking closer, it was not plastic at all, but flew off before I was able to look for identifying markings.

The morning's plan is working to perfection, not a common occurance.  I got to Rand a little after 9 AM.   The cafe was only open for dinner.  Plan B, the grocery, had been closed for years.  So off I go.  There was a little tiny Post office at the outskirts of this tiny town, and the postmistress, who was sitting out front, waved at me and asked if I needed any water.  I pulled in.  She was a bicycler and, as such, was always trying to help riders.  I have learned, since I go through water quickly, to not miss a chance to fill up my water bottle when the opportunity arises.

Willow Creek Pass was typical of most of the passes since I left Washington.  Lots of climbing, steep at parts, but my legs must be getting stronger becuase I am going up slopes at a gear or two higher than I would have used at the start of the trip.  Soon I was over the top.   By 1 PM, I was in Granby, wolfing down lunch.  I was very hungry.

Having already gone 56 miles, lunch was supposed to give me back my energy, but someone forgot to tell my body that.  I was okay, but my legs lacked the strength that they had before lunch.  I arrived at my destination around 3 PM.

Finding lodging in Grand Lake, a community at the west entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park, was a big concern.  It would be expensive.  I wasn't sure what day I would arrive.  I didn't know what lodging was available.  So imagine my surprise, when my good friend, Ted Pfeifer (aka Hawk) emailed me with directions to a home in Grand Lake that his relatives owned.  Hawk will be meeting me in North Carolina and may ride with me into Raleigh, so he had been sending copies of my online journal to his brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Paul and Karen Noble.   At some point, they graciously offered their lakefront "cabin" for me to stay in.  It was an incredibly generous and welcomed gesture on their part.  The "cabin" is a level entry home with a daylight basement, 2,800-3,000 square feet.  It was built perfectly for the environment:  modern yet western.  My first function there before even unpacking was to sit out on their deck and unwind.

You know, I might have enough energy to do Trail Ridge tomorrow.  I was tired.  In fact, I was too tired to even ride into town to eat.  I had been carrying around one of those freeze-dried dinners, in this case Beef Stew.  that became dinner and that was plenty to satisfy me. 

With plenty of rest, I should be able to tackle Trail Ridge.  Here is my plan:  I would get up early, at or before 5 AM, pack up, ride into Grand lake, eat breakfast at 6 AM, and enter Rocky National Park around 7 AM.  Sounds good!  Lets get going! 

In terms of dress, I would go back to my winter gear.  Bike pants instead of shorts.  Long sleeved turtleneck shirt.  Thick socks.

I slept well. 

Will McMahan

Mood:  energetic

This should be a great day.  The weather looks good.  The distance is shorter than normal, only 50 miles.  And at some point I will be in Colorado, the fifth state of this journey.

My plan for the day was to start out early again, and get close to Walden, my destination, before the winds get too brisk.  Since there were no towns or stops enroute, I bought a sandwich at the grocery after breakfast, and hit the road.

The whole terrain was changing.  There is still prairie but the mountains are not distant anymore, and the flatness is changing more into hills, much like the terrain changes to hills soiuth of Indianapolis.

The country is pretty, and the miles go quickly.  Whereas I almost always see one or more touring bicyclers heading west each day, today I came across a touring bicycle group.  They were part of a "supported" ride which means that the organizing group plans the route, secures places to camp at the end of the day, does all the cooking and carries all of the gear.  There were about 30 in the group.

I crossed paths with a lady, not part of the aforementioned group, who had started in St. Augustine, Florida, and was headed for Oregon.  Her cousin was driving along as support which meant, of course, that the rider was unencumbered by carrying gear.   She seemed to be making good time, and I asked her how far she liked to ride each day.  It depends, she replied, but she had donw three 100 mile days, a 90 miler and an 80 miler.  So much for my measly 50-60 miles per day. 

Colorado State Line!  Another milestone.

 As I neared Walden, I could see in my mirrors a touring bicycler approaching from behind.  It was Slade.  He had a few too many beers last night, and started several hours behind me, yet still caught up.  A really nice fellow in his mid 20's, he was in great shape.  We rode into town together.  It was 2 PM.

Walden was much nicer than I expected and bigger than I expected.  It's population is only 734, but it seemed vibrant.  It gave all the appearance of being a bustling, prosperous community.

Around 5:30 PM I decided to get dinner.  I started walking down the street towards the restaurant that I had chosen.  On the way I noticed another touring bicycler who just arrived in town.  I walked over to see if everything was okay, and we chatted for few minutes.  Then I took leave and walked across the street to the restaurant.

Those of you who have followed the foibles and hembling experiences of this journey know that God has taken this adventure to both teach me some lessons and encourage me to be more accepting of what He desires of me.  In return, I promised to be more outspoken about His involvement in my life.  There have been so many things that have happened that I believe are His work, and what happened next is one of them.

To set the stage, let me say that several months ago, a Fort Wayne friend of my mother had emailed me about a fellow whom I went to elementery school with, Doug Rood.  I remembered he and his family, but never touched base with him even though Mother's friend had given me some contact information.  So the story continues.  A couple and I reached the door to the restaurant at the exact same time.  I held the door for them, and they returned the compliment with the inside door.  As we were waiting to be seated, I said "Where are you folks from?".  The lady turned around and replied "Well, I am from Indianapolis."  "Another Hoosier", I rejoiced.  "I knew there was something about you I liked!  I'm originally form Fort Wayne."  Then she said "Then you might know my companion.  He is from Fort Wayne."  It was Doug Rood.

We dined together and talked about many things from past to present.  He and his companion are expert birders and the area surrounding Walden is the Arapahoe Wildlife Refuge and is loaded with birds.  I don't know why God brought Doug and I together.  Perhaps there was something that He wanted me to learn.  Or perhaps for Doug to learn.  Or both.  But I don't believe that coincidences like that are really coincidences.  It was an enjoyable meal with some wonderful dining companions.

Tomorrow things get harder.  Trail Ridge looms two days away, possibly the most difficult bicyling day of the trip.  Just to get to a jumping off spot, I had a 70 mile day tomorrow ,including going over Willow Creek Pass, at an elevation of over 9,600'.  I would need all my strength to do Trail Ridge so I hoped I would not use it all tomorrow.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Today is a trip to Riverside, a community 60 miles away.  From it I will jump into Colorado the next day.  Since I leave Rawlins heading east, my strategy for today is to start with a nice breakfast (assuming they have any restaurants on that side of town.  They seem to have a dearth of restaurants here).  Again I want to leave early to minimize the effects of the wind, although that didn't work the other day.  I would be going east for 22 miles, then take a right turn and head south toward Colorado.

I had to stop at a motel on the east side of town, and they directed me to the one restaurant serving breakfast (!).  I ate and was riding east by 8 AM.

The morning sky was clear.  It was going to be another hot, sunny day.  For the third time of this journey, I got onto an interstate highway, in this case, I-80.  It had a nice wide shoulder, and it was an easy ride for the 10 miles that I was on it (remember I rode I-90 for over 100 miles).  I exited and headed south.

This country is very pretty.  Vast prairie, with mountains on the horizon on all sides.  What is that?  Why its an antelope!  Oh look, there are some more!  You know, they do look like they're playing.  What nice country.  Ooh, that dead snake on the shoulder was pretty big.  The wind was light, the miles passed quickly and I'm getting hungry for some lunch.  The next town is Saratoga.  It should have some cafes.

Sure enough, it was loaded with them, but I picked the first one.  Inside was another bicycler, a young man named Slade,who I had chatted with a bit as he passed me.  He said "Did you see that big rattlesnake back there?"  I said I had.  He said "I thought it was dead so I stopped to take a photo of it."  Apparently it was very much alive, just warming up on the pavement.  He showed me a photo he took.  It was coiled up, looking for all the world like it was ready to strike at the camera.  I assumed he was standing back and zoomed in from afar.

The winds finally came, but with only 15 miles to go.  Psychologically, if you have headwinds at the end of the day, it is no big deal--you know that the end of the day's ride is near.  It is early in the morning that headwinds bade trouble--you don't know how long they are going to last.

I stayed at a cute, well maintained campground in the well maintained town of Riverside, population of 59.  While I could have camped, I chose instead to sleep in a small cabin over by the river.  It had no water or linens, but it was cheap and would suffice.  As I walked through the campground towards a cafe across the street, I spoke to some folks who were relaxing in the shade in their lawn chairs.  I told them it seemed downright sinful for them to look so comfortable.  They agreed that it probably was and invited me to sit down for a spell.  I did.  They were the vanguard of a pending family reunion of 15 or so people, and invited me to come back later.

When I did come back, one of the men had gotten out his banjo, another man his guitar.  They started picking, then singing.  The older of the two, in his mid-70s, had a beautiful soft voice, and sang a number of country and western songs.  I know none of them (although I liked what he was singing) but many of the family members did, and they often would chime in and accompany him.  It was fun and relaxing. 

I would be entering Colorado tomorrow.  Progress.

Will McMahan

Mood:  lazy

As usual, I went for breakfast early even though this was a rest day.  There were at least 8-10 motels within a six block stretch of the road, so there should be plenty of eateries.  There weren't.  There were three restaurants, one of which was Chinese food, but none were open for breakfast.   I stopped in a convenience store and loaded up.

The first order of business was to find a charger for my MP3 player so that I could listen to "Ivanhoe" once again.  There was a small radio Shack inside a Do-It-Yourself Center (kind of like a Home Depot), and I found one there.

My second order of business was to visit the "Old Pen", a nickname for a penitentury in Rawlins that was in use from 1901 through 1982.  In much of it, little had changed, other than the gift shop and tour.  A 6" thick metal pole was still there where unruly inmates were tied, then guards would whip them with leather straps.  A small window into the cell block was opened so that prisoners could hear the screams of the offenders.  The cells were small, and initially no heat.  It was decades before heat was installed.  We toured A,B, and C Blocks, as well as solitary confinement, and the section where the condemned were kept until killed.  The cafeteria still had original paintings from one of the inmates.  It was eerie to wander through the exercise yard and eye tyhe gaurd towers.  The tour took an hour, and it was an interesting view into how prisons used to be run.

After lunch, I visited the Rawlins Museum.  I love history and seeing how our forefathers lived, and this museum did not disappoint.  In fact, it was so chock full of displays and artifacts that I finally achieved sensory overload.

So I went back to my motel room and slept for an hour or two.

Dinner was followed by preparations for tomorrow's ride.  My plan was to leave early tomorrow morning, catch breakfast on the other side of town, and start early enough to get in some distance before the winds started increasing.

This would be a pivotal week for this trip.  After the fourth day, I would be in Estes park (I hope!), and through with the mountains, other than the ride to Boulder.

Rawlins, I found out, is loaded with all sorts of outside companies doing oil and energy exploration as well as mining companies and road construction crews.  All these workers (or at least the vast majority of them) were from out of the area, and that is why the motels were so expensive, and also why the motel owners treated me like a tenant instead of a valued customer.

With today's rest, tomorrow should be better.

Will McMahan

Mood:  energetic

It's just amazing what a full belly and a good night's sleep does for one's demeanor!  Today was going to be a piece of cake.  I was riding to Rawlins, 66 miles away, a fair sized town by Wyoming standards, around 9,000, and the county seat.  There would be lots to do there and I planned to take Wednesday off.

Furthermore, I rose early, had a large breakfast at the cafe, and had the new owner, who by now was warming up some, make me a lunch-to-go.  I ordered 2 ham and cheese sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, candy bar, and a can of pop.  $4.50.

Since the winds can be capricious it is smart to start early since they really pick up in the afternoon.  I was on the road by 7:15 AM.  Would have been earlier, but I had an interesting conversation with a railroad inspector.  The road was straight, the wind non-exhistent.  This was going to be a good day!

The wind started around 8 AM and continued all day.  It was mostly from the side but there was quite a bit of headwind.  How can the wind blow at 20-30 mph that early in the morning?  It made for a long, tiring day of pedalling. 

Heretofor, I had come across a dozen or so westbound bicyclers.  Today, I met nine more in four separate groups.  It is customary to stop each time swap information.  It is important and a courtesy, but it added 45 minutes to the day's riding.

The scenery was still very pretty.  It is true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  If you don't care to look for it, you won't find it.

I got passed by three young riders who were nearing the end of their third 100 mile (fully loaded) day.  They passed me like I was standing still.

I took a few pictues of landscape that I thought was interesting.  I also took a photo of Split Rock (thus the Split Rock Cafe and Bar).  It was a mountian with a clear, deep cleft in it that could be seen by travelers for several days away.  It was used as a landmark by the Indians, the Oregon Trail travelers, the Mormons and the Pony Express riders.

About ten miles out of Rawlins, the accumulating skies decided that they were carrying too much moisture, and decided to drop some.  It wasn't bad.  In fact it felt good, as long as the lightning kept its distance.

Rawlins is not what I had expected.  It can be disorienting to enter a strange city, and Rawlins is in the middle of a major downtown street project.  I was curious as to why lodging, that I had checked on the interet, was so expensive.  It seems that there is a shortage of apartment housing, so the smaller, cheaper motels offer weekly and monthly rentals, thus driving up the prices of the nice places.  One decent place was $90/night, and the rest were over $100.  I found a not-so-decent one for $59/night. 

I was tired.  Was I tired because of the head and crosswinds?  Was it the fact that this was my fifth straight day?  Either way, I was going to enjoy my evening, and walked across the street for dinner.  When I returned the power had gone out for a several block area.  No big deal.  I've got Ivanhoe on my MP3 player (thank you, Andy).  After a half hour of listening, its battery went dead.  I had forgotten to charge it up.  So my evening was spent reading and doing the crossword puzzle (with a headlamp) the entire Rawlins newspaper, including legal notices, obituaries, and classified ads.

Tomorrow would be different.  I was going to see what makes this town tick.  They are supposed to have a nice museum, and they have an interesting tour of an old Penetentiary built around the turn of the century.

Sleep came slowly.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Today's trip had little to look forward to.  Just get from point A to point B.  Jeffery City would have little to offer of interest.

First things first.  I need to make sure my food and water stores are adequate.  Temperatures have been in the mid to high 80's in the afternoon.  So I went across the street to a convenience store to get a sandwich or two.  They didn't have any.  I asked the clerk at the motel if there was a grocery on the way out of town.  She said yes.  I never found it, and before long I was out of town, in the boonies, figuring on how I was going to make my meager food last until I came across the next store, which I calculated to be 39 miles.

This area is very pretty.  Lots of prairie, surrounded by mountains in the distance.  Streams abound.  It is very pleasant.  I met a bicycler or two coming from the other direction.  They feel that they are almost finished on their rides to Astoria, but, in reality they still have a third of their journey left.

I'm out of water now.  Not too far to the store.  Next to the store was a rest area.  I chatted with two lady bicyclers, whom I had met at breakfast this morning at the motel.  They had just finished their break and were talking with a couple from El Paso.  I took their place and had a nice conversation with the couple.  Suddenly, they saw me as an opportunity to get rid of a bunch of their junk food, and I couldn't disappoint them by declining, could I?

From there to Jeffery City, I had a nice tailwind.  Now, I am averaging 15-18 mph in comfort.   Before long I was there.

I did Jeffery City a disservice yesterday by calling the area desolate.  The area is actually quite pretty.  The community, like many small communities is on life support, with little or no industry.  There are buildings all over the place, but most of them are vacant.  The two  merchants doing business were the owner of the Jeffery City Motel and the owner of the Split Rock Cafe and Bar. 

Originally intending to camp, the idea of a motel room overruled that thought.  I have spent many a night in motels in low places, and this was no exception, except perhaps a bit lower than most.  Riding into it is sort of like driving into a ghost town where no upkeep has been done for decades. The florescent light fixture in the ceiling didn't  work.  Neither did the TV.  But it had a shower with hot water, a decent bed, and an A/C and heater that worked.  That's good enough for me.  I was famished and the cafe was calling even before I could shower.

The cafe was the most unique one so far in the matter of service.  There was a new owner, typically meaning friendly and abundant service.  This owner decided to try the opposite approach. With considerable effort I was able to put in an order, but I have to admit, the food was abundant and delicious.  Returning 2 1/2 hours later for dinner, the service was unchanged and the dinner food was again abundant, but not so delicious.  The left side of the building was the cafe portion, and the right side was the bar, with a connecting entry.  I inadvertantly spilled a large glass of ice water on the table and floor.  It took half a roll of paper towels, and a good ten minutes to get it cleaned up, and the owner never knew what had happened.

That night, I listened to more of Ivanhoe, then fell asleep by 8:30 PM.

Will McMahan