Day 2 – A Prairie Crossing

Well, what can one say about crossing the great plains? I think that in the days of old when the pioneers, driven either by the desire for land or the prospect of riches in the form of California gold, would have had a great many stories to tell. Back then it would have taken months to complete the journey and a good number of the party would have been felled by illness or injury.

Today, though I make the crossing astride a steed, my crossing was a lot less adventuresome than it would have been had I lived in a different era. It is the very least that can be asked and, thankfully, the travel Gods delivered and I am grateful to them.

I departed St. Louis under clouds and the threat of rain. I had my wet weather gear packed within easy reach so that it would only take a few minutes for me to get myself in the position to face the damp end of the elements.

The sun made its existence evident by reaching across from the eastern skies with a few rays, guiding tethers extended towards the western horizon, guides for the path it would follow. In what seemed to be a few moments those first rays were joined by many more and soon wove a fabric of light that was welcomed by large fields of sunflowers, all with their eager faces pointed east.

Hmm .. a little wordy on the preamble today! This is written on Saturday morning and I feel 100 percent better than I did last night, but, I am getting ahead of the story!

I had initially wanted to depart at o’dark hundred hours but my late arrival moved that departure time to o’just-before-light thirty. This meant that I would have to put my rookie ride of the previous day behind me and ride like I knew what I was doing. My endeavor was to make it a tank-to-tank crossing and I was successful in doing so on the first tank with that taking me all the way across Missouri and about half an hour into Kansas. I was on the turnpike and the only restaurant (if you can call it that) available at the service plaza was a McDonalds and I didn’t want to start my day off with a gut bomb!

As I was getting ready to leave a young fellow in his late teens or early twenties walked up and simply said, “Man, that is one bad ass bike!”, took a walk around it, wished me a safe ride and went back to his friends. I thanked him and wished him safe travels.

That was a better encounter than the night before when I was at a rest stop pulling on my rain gear and a car with two obviously intoxicated young men in their twenties pulled up and they first complimented the bike and then started to ask probing questions such as where are you coming from, where are you stopping for the night, where are you headed, what do you do for a living, all coming at me in an apparent rhetorical rapid fire because they didn’t wait long for a clear response ...... my answers were vague. As I get closer to my destination, I give out less and less information to strangers who ask ... just a safety measure I take on the road.

Anyway. I was soon back on the road, not hungry but, knowing I should eat properly on a long pull as today was meant to be, keeping an eye open for a Bob Evans or Cracker Barrel so that I could get a full sit-down breakfast. The hours ticked over and the miles rolled by and the low fuel light winked on as I approached Hays Kansas. I pulled over and got lunch at a restaurant called American Inn. The pot roast was a little salty but it had more meat than potatoes so I was not complaining. I would be staying in Denver for the night and I host Terry a call to let him know that I was making good time and my estimated time of arrival was sometime between six and seven that evening and as I got closer I would fine tune that.

The next tank took me the rest of the way through Kansas to Limon Colorado. The temperatures had climbed into the high eighties but I was still feeling a chill. Oh crap! The only thing that could mean was I was getting sick. In addition, as I fiddled with vents in the jacket the sneezing began and I spent the rest of that tank flipping my helmet open to sneeze and sniffing miserably in between. The last thing anyone wants on vacation is to be ill.

The day and pending illness was wearing down on me and the hundreds of miles covered to that point were catching up to me when I pulled over in Limon. I bought a 16 oz coffee and a Planters trail mix for an afternoon snack, a mixture of caffeine, sugar and carbs for the final pull into Denver. I called Terry again and let him know that it looked like I would be there between 6:30 and 7:00 and he gave me a route to their house that avoided the mess downtown Denver traffic becomes on a daily basis.

Still sneezing and sniffling I made it to my destination at 6:43 and was at the door a couple of minutes later. We got the bike all situated in the garage and I got cleaned up for dinner. It was great to see Terry and Claudia and we went to a nearby seafood restaurant that had absolutely wonderful food and to top it off they had a great band playing blues on the patio.

After dinner we went back to the house and Terry took some time to show me a great route for getting to the eastern entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. I got spoonful of honey and a box of Kleenex, booked a hotel in Steamboat Springs for the next night and settled into the most comfortable bed in the world for a good night of sleep.

I went to bed with a runny nose and a horrible headache and I have woken up with the running stopped and the headache gone. Hopefully my condition will improve as the day goes on and I trust that it will. The weatherman is calling for sunny skies and temperatures in the high eighties. I think that, and mountains should make for a beautiful day and that is what I am looking forward to!