Bittersweet Arrival in Hesston

I hit the road from Walsenburg, Colorado, and continued down a familiar highway 10 that I had just traveled in a car a few days before. From Walsenburg to the La Junta area is a very desolate stretch of road for about 70 miles. I hit the ground running, not sure where I would end up for the night. I knew I wanted to try for a longer day, so I only dismounted the bike once during the morning to water some of the local vegetation. As I neared La Junta, I noticed a rhythmic sound coming from the rear of my bicycle, so I pulled over to investigate. I found that the sidewall of my rear tire had started to give way and the tube was about to push through and rupture. I knew it needed to be dealt with quickly, but I was so close to town that I was hoping it would hold until I got there. Rather, it gave way less than a mile from where I discovered the problem. I had been making such good time that I was a little irritated by the sudden snag, but I've gotten so quick at changing tires that it didn't really impact my day too negatively. The tire and tube were both shot at this point. I got my spare out of my bag and threw it on the bike, then bungied the failed tire and tube on the back with my tent.

After a bite to eat in a diner in La Junta, I hit the road hard again, seeing how far I could get before sunset. I thought about stopping at John Martin Reservoir State Park, but things were going too well to stop. I kept on cranking the pedals to Lamar Sportsman's Campground, just outside of Lamar, Colorado. Nobody was there to check in with, so I did the self register thing. Nobody was there when I got up, either, so I probably could have gotten away with squatting for the night. There was even a small heated cabin next to the tent sights that was unlocked that I could have definitely hidden in for the evening. It certainly would have been warmer than the tent. Rather, I paid for and used only a tent sight.

In the morning I got up early, packed, and found a diner for breakfast. The diner was connected to a large truck plaza and had a pretty well stocked breakfast buffet. That was perfect. I hadn't eaten too much the night before, opting for tortillas with peanut butter instead of cooking beans and rice in the dark. As I left the diner, I heard the song "Friends in Low Places" blaring from a semi parked at one of the pumps. That song has some significance with me and my former Hesston College coworkers, so I quickly texted the group of them, letting them know I was thinking of them.

Just before reaching the Kansas border I passed through the town of Holly, Colorado. Nothing about this town really stood out to me as I rode into town. Then, I slammed on my breaks. I wasn't quite sure why I hit my breaks or what I had just seen on the side of the road, but I needed to stop and look back. It was so out in the open and so still that I glazed over it on my way by. I had ridden my bicycle within about 6 feet of an elk. It was standing in the front yard of a house in the middle of town, right on the sidewalk. There shouldn't even be elk in that part of the state, much less standing in the front yard of a house in the middle of a small town. I got off my bike, walked around it (at a distance) and took a couple of pictures. It just stood there looking at me, turning occasionally to keep an eye on me. It was so calm that I almost wanted to try to pet the thing, but I imagined what an elk hoof would feel like hitting me in the face and decided against it. I saddled back up and took off for the border.

The next town I rolled through was Syracuse, Kansas. The only reason I mention this town is because this was the first time I had seen a semi hauling a wind turbine blade through a town. Not only was it passing through town, but it was making a left turn in the middle of town. The "wide load" car that drove ahead made the corner first, then stopped with it's hazards on. The driver got out with a hand held stop sign, and kept traffic from approaching the intersection, preventing the semi from dragging it's rear tires across the hood of some poor Civic or something. It was quite the sight.

Speaking of wind turbines, there are few places that I've seen with the sheer quantity of wind turbines than along highway 50. There were huge fields of them stretching into the distance, and evidence of more to come. I got to a bend in the road where there were neatly organized parts to wind turbines laid out, covering about 20 acres. Not much else to do out there, may as well use the wind.

The day seemed to drag on, but I was pretty motivated to cover more miles. I knew that Hesston, Kansas, my former home, was waiting for me. I pushed on into the evening, covering the last four or five miles in the dark to get to Cimarron, Kansas. I don't recommend cycling at night in general, and what is worse I was on highway 50. I had one eye glued to my rear view mirror at all times, just in case.

In Cimarron, I found a small diner where I could grab a bite to eat. While I was there they were preparing a very large burger for someone who called in the order. It's some kind of eating challenge. The burger itself is something like 5 lbs of beef and what appeared to be about a full block of cheese sliced up and put on the patty. The burger was enormous. They said they had to bake the patty because it wouldn't cook all the way through on the griddle. It looked like a round meatloaf between the halves of a round loaf of bread. I was not interested. I was hungry, but that looked gross.

Eventually people started asking me what the heck I was doing, so I explained. As I was about to head to the city park to set up the tent, Paula and Steve, a couple that hadn't said much yet, stopped me. They told me that they didn't live in town, but Paula's parents did, and they were out of town. They offered to let me have the house for the evening. I couldn't turn that down. It was dark and getting chilly already. They drove ahead and I met Paula at the house. She let me in, showed me to a bedroom and told me to make myself at home. It's amazing to find such trusting people. They knew nothing about me but what I had claimed about my trip, and Paula felt comfortable enough to leave me alone in her parents' house.

The following morning I had breakfast at another local establishment and was entertained by how familiar the morning coffee crowd felt. After Breakfast, I don't really have a whole lot to say about the day on the bike. I didn't really spend much time off the bike, and I don't remember seeing anything really worth noting. This was my longest day on the bike to date, covering about 141 miles to get to Yoder, Kansas, where I stayed with my friends Kendra and Mark who run a bed and breakfast in town. It was a good place to be when I received a phone call from my friend Alyssa (who I stayed with in Americus, GA, a few months ago).

Alyssa called and told me that our friend Chole Weaver had been riding her bicycle that morning and was struck from behind by a car. She died shortly thereafter. I hadn't paid attention to where so many of the students had gone to after leaving Hesston. Chloe had been living in La Jara, Colorado, and was in Alamosa, Colorado when the accident happened. I had ridden my bicycle through Alamsoa three days earlier.

The next day I got up early and rode to Hesston from Yoder, arriving just in time for chapel at the college. I had spoken with the campus pastor, Todd, about possibly making the announcements at the beginning of chapel if I arrived in time. When I walked out from in back, the sophomores were all pretty shocked and cheered a little, but the freshmen were all very confused (or so said the sophomores). I just read the announcements and left the stage with no explanation. I spent the next several days looking up as many of my friends in the area as I could, spreading my time relatively thin. I did my best to single people out so I wouldn't be caught in huge groups.

Then on Thursday I got in a car with Emily and Katie, two of my former coworkers, and we drove to Colorado for Chloe's funeral. It was really good to see that group of friends again, but it was not easy. The funeral was Friday, after which Emily, Katie, and I drove back to Hesston.

I stayed in Kansas through the weekend so I could go to New Creation Fellowship Church, where I had been attending for the three years, and to see a few more people I hadn't been able to meet up with yet. My friend Adam drove down from Henderson, Nebraska, for the weekend, and we made Indian food one night. By "we" I mean he cooked and I enjoyed the product. I should really pay attention one of these times and take notes.

I didn't go to bed very early Sunday night, so I slept in Monday and had lunch on campus before hitting the road. I expected to cover a shorter day due to the late start, but it was one of those days where I sort of found a zone and just stayed there. I ended up knocking out 76 miles that afternoon. The down side to getting into a zone like that is that I don't really appreciate what's around me, I just bike. It's ok though, I was in Kansas.

I found a cheap hotel room on the edge of Emporia, Kansas, and took care of some overdue business I had neglected while I was in Hesston. When I woke, my quads were quite unhappy with me. I spent a full week off the bike in Hesston, then pushed out 76 miles against the wind in one afternoon. I think they wanted a warm up day, or at least a warning of what was to come. I moved a little slower and took a few more breaks that day. It was still pretty uneventful on the grand scheme of things. It's hard for me to really appreciate the view. I do think that Kansas is a beautiful state, but I have lived 6 out of the last 8 years of my life before this trip in the state of Kansas. It's hard to see it with fresh eyes, especially when I get in my zone. I spent the night at Hillsdale State Park, where the camp host gave me some firewood at no charge. It was pretty cold, and I was the only one in the park without the rigid walls of a camper.

In the morning I woke with Garden City, Missouri, in my sights. Emily, one of the former coworkers that I went to the funeral with, lives near Garden City. It turned out to be less than 50 miles to get to her place, but my travels were delayed a bit because Martha (GPS) doesn't know which roads are paved and which ones are not. I took her directions anyway, but we got into a little snag when we came upon some railroad crossing maintenance. Eventually I was allowed to walk my bike through the work area, but I had to sit for about 20 minutes first.

Emily's sister, Megan, is married to my former college roommate, Brandon, so we had supper at Megan and Brandon's house last night. I really appreciated the opportunity to catch up with Brandon again. He's all grown up and working full time and then some. I, however, am delaying the conventional lifestyle of employment as long as my bank account can support it.

Today I am sitting in a coffee shop, trying to plot out the remainder of my trip. I intend to arrive in New Iberia, Louisiana on November 19th. I still need to pass through parts of Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, and take a picture of myself entering Louisiana. I also need to make sure my route covers at least 900 miles so that I get my total mileage over 10,000 miles. I'm pretty comfortable with that. The idea of biking 900 miles sounds like a lot to many people, but at this point in my trip I feel like I'm almost tripping over the finish line. I had better live it up out here on the road while I still can.