The Parkes and Stockham Cycle Part 2: TransAmerica

Date: Wednesday 15th September   

Route: Bismarck, Missouri – Murphysboro, Illinois

Distance: 99 miles

Total climb: 5377 ft

Net climb: -616 ft

Even after an Applebees the previous night, breakfast pride kicked in at the hotel buffet. Once we had over-indulged, we were couriered by Tammy and Team Stockham back to Bismarck, for the day’s ride. We spent four miles battling debris down the hard shoulder of one of the main routes into Farmington, before heading off onto quieter roads that threaded their way through some national parkland.

Once back in Farmington, we were pleased to see beyond the generic strip that provided our needed accommodation and feeding station the night before. The town centre was fun to roll through, passing book shops, music shops and the town’s specialist accommodation for cyclists – a former jail, converted by the locals.

From Farmington, a lengthy stint took us to lunch in St Mary, passing vineyards and running along a pink road surface. Jay was disheartened to find the map inaccurate in its suggestion of services 8 miles earlier at Ozora. However, his mood quickly improved when we wandered into a rather hostile looking bar, in almost complete darkness. It had all the ticks we needed – gambling machines, self-serving punters watching daytime television, a brash bar lady and food. We scoffed burgers and BLTs, bananas and cookies, preparing for the afternoon. Had there been tins of spinach, I’m convinced they’d have gone too, since we were heading towards the home of Popeye.

A few miles out of St Mary, we wheeled onto the sun-drenched flood plains of the Mississippi. A sprint over the bridge spanning this mighty river took us to Illinois and Chester, aforementioned home of Popeye. Missouri had been an enjoyable state, with rollercoaster roads, stunning scenery and, in the main, fun people.

After hauling up the hill into Chester and onto a new plain, we rolled for many miles, discussing Arsene Wenger’s contributions to the Premier League and admiring the tall crops in the fields. We stopped briefly for a soda at a gas station, before fitting lights and donning reflective gear for another night ride into Murphysboro.

On arriving in Murphysboro, someone shouted a request for a wheelie from a parked car. Given the recent issues I’ve had with spokes, I declined but was delighted with the interaction and the optimism that I could possibly lift Rosie’s front wheel with all the weight in the front panniers.

Our route took us, quite literally, around the houses in Murphysboro, before reaching the centre. I’m sure this is interesting in daylight and adds to the trip, but it gets a little edgy at night in certain neighbourhoods. We were therefore delighted to reach the ever-safe haven of McDonalds in town (and not just for the cookies and milkshakes). Whilst waiting for Team Stockham to arrive, we were informed by locals that Murphysboro was in the process of its annual apple festival. There was a fair in town, processions were scheduled for the weekend, bands were playing, cider was flowing and I understand there may even have been some apple bobbing at some point. It was a shame we arrived so late and would be leaving early the following morning.

That said, we stumbled across another M’boro gem, after a quick change at our motel… 17^th Street Bar & Grill. Our restaurant for the evening, chosen by pure chance, was the home of ‘The Legend’, Mike Millls – 4 times barbecue world champion and grand champion. His daughter served us some superb food and Mike himself popped in at one point. He had signed photos covering the walls from various celebrities (including Jerry Springer) all of which helped to justify his decision to sign off his menus, ‘The Legend’.

Our breakfast was sorted for the morning as well, with Mike’s daughter providing a strong recommendation in Carbondale for us. Illinois had started well.

FP

Date: Tuesday 14^th September

Distance: 47 miles

Total Climb: 2957ft

Net Climb:366ft

A logistical nightmare.  Where to find a bike shop in the middle of Missouri that could fix the spoke on Fred’s rear wheel?  The Google presented us with two possibilities – Poplar Bluff and West Plains; both were about 60 miles away.  We opted for Poplar Bluff and set off from our peculiarly lavish looking motel at around 7:30, without breakfast.  The plan was to eat while the bikes were getting looked at.

Unfortunately the plan went awry when we arrived at the Poplar Bluff bike shop to find that the owner had been involved in a cycling accident and so the shop would not be opening.  The only remaining option was to head to West Plains.  We called ahead to confirm that the shop was open and headed back out in Tammy the Texan Chariot.

It was around 12 noon by the time we found the West Plains Cyclery and dropped off the bikes.  We popped next door for a belated brunch in an authentic fifties motel (with plumbing to match) and before we had even finished our milkshakes the bikes had been repaired and tuned up.  In yet another act of unprompted kindness, the owner of the shop did the repairs for free and wished us luck on our way.

With the bikes prepared, we headed back to Ellington with Team Stockham and finally set off at 3pm (massive thanks to Team Stockham for their efforts in driving the 250 mile round trip to get the bikes fixed).  It is always difficult to get going when we start late in the afternoon, but we made a decent stab at it, and clocked up 47 miles through the rolling Missouri countryside before stopping at the small town of Bismark.  There was little to note during the ride, save for our stop in Centreville.  What had initially been planned as a “foot down” at the diner/general store became a somewhat longer stop as we talked to a lady and her daughter who had seen us on the road the previous day.  They were interested in why there were always cyclists riding along the road that we were on.  We told them about the TransAmerica route and some of the highlights of our trip.  It turned out that they were an intrepid pair of amateur historians who were in the process of transcribing all of the cemeteries of the local counties; apparently no-one had done this necessary task since 1986.  A strange hobby, no doubt, but their enthusiasm for their endeavours was great to see.

 After Team Stockham arrived at Bismark, the bikes were loaded into the car and we headed off to the larger town of Farmington, in the hope of finding some accommodation.  We secured a room in a Super 8 motel on the outskirts of Farmington – essentially a giant retail park.  For dinner we made our way to our friendly neighbourhood bar and grill – Appleby’s.  It was a revelation; sport on TV, a number of different beers available and the ability to order a meal that came with vegetables.  Although I had previously mocked them (without any reason whatsoever) the good people of Appleby’s now rank as unquestionable number one in the chain-restaurant league for the trip.

JBS

Date: Monday 13th September    

Route: Houston, Missouri – Ellington, Missouri 

Distance: 79 miles

Total climb: 5667 ft

Net climb: -321 ft

For breakfast this morning, we ventured to a local diner. Opting not to disturb the signed ‘Table of Knowledge’ occupied by locals, we settled on a table for four people, forgetting again that our orders usually require a surface designed for banqueting. Oatmeals and cooked rations devoured, we returned to our grand hotel to complete the preparation routine, in one of the slowest times to date.

Our start promised to be unpleasant, with the route heading along a road frequented by logging trucks. Rolling out of town, we had our share of jumpy moments as these behemoths of the road thundered past, sometimes within less than a foot of our bikes.

I’m delighted to say that we made it past the worst of the traffic, to Summersville for lunch. We were directed to House’s Haunted Hut, for a BLT with fries (Jay) and a hot dog (me), ahead of an afternoon of climbing. Although tempted by the table football and the advertised pool ‘tournie’ tomorrow night, we managed to prise ourselves away and head deeper into the Ozarks.

A steep descent led us down to Jacks Fork, where we saw people swimming and kayaking in the crystal clear river and springs – generating incredible envy in the heat. The steep drop was mirrored by our toughest climb on the trip to date, in terms of gradient. A punchy 400 vertical feet of forcing the pedals round in lowest gear was a shock to the system, but a fun challenge.

We met Team Stockham for a soda in Eminence and relaxed by watching the country music channel on in the diner. Just before setting off for the final stint of the day and more climbs, we bumped into a local who warned us to put high visibility gear on for the road ahead. Given that Jay’s top is a bright yellow, he had little to do. However, I had to fetch my yellow top and put it on over my jersey – not ideal in the heat and humidity, but nonetheless sensible.

Apart from the hills, the day was relatively uneventful. We made it to Ellington over more steep climbs and avoided too many fall-outs with local traffic. The Ozarks have proven to be very scenic, with the rollercoaster hills, crystal clear waters and rocky outcrops overlooking the rivers and streams.

We stayed at the only motel in Ellington, which appeared a little out of place with huge pillars on the front of it. Food was sourced from Hall’s restaurant, just before it closed for the evening. Washing was done at the laundrette in town. All tasks completed, the only concern hanging over us was a broken spoke I had picked up on the rear wheel – probably due to the steep climbing today and having (for the first time in a few thousand miles) to get out of the seat to force my way up one section.

Tomorrow, we will need to find a bike shop, since I still cannot remove the cassette with the tools we have.

FP

Date: Sunday 12th September

Distance: 112 miles

Elevation gain: 7420ft

Net climb: 180ft

No photos today after I dropped the replacement camera in a cat’s water bowl the previous evening.

Team Stockham’s discovery of a bijou apartment in Ash Grove proved to be an excellent result.  The flat came with enough food for us to get a good breakfast before heading down to the garage, which was also owned by our temporary landlord.  He proved to be quite a character and showed us a varied selection of amusing curios including a wallet made from a frog, a series of IQ tests and a photo of a cyclist who had been “captured” and held, upside-down in a winch mechanism.  All of this meant that we headed back out into the rolling hills of the Ozarks with smiles on our increasingly bearded faces.  Those smiles were removed in short order though after a young driver yelled some abuse at us for no apparent reason (save perhaps for the lack of variety in his genetic coding), it is never great to get this sort of treatment, but it is worst when it occurs first thing in the morning, as it gives you the whole of the rest of the day to reflect on it.

The morning ride took the same form as the previous day with the road resembling an endless rollercoaster of fairly steep hills.  Our technique on this sort of terrain was improving though and so we made it into Fair Grove ahead of time.  At Fair Grove we stopped at Subway for the first time on our journey.  It proved to be a very time efficient stop with the best cookies that we have tried to date (Fred can confirm this having “sampled” five cookies during this visit alone).  We both agreed that Subway would be high on our list of potential stopping points in future; not realising at that time how prescient our decision would be.

After Fred had stopped at the local gas station to inflate his tires a touch, we headed back out on the road.  Fortunately, the rollercoaster ride had finally come to an end and the road for the rest of the day, whilst still undulating was less severe than our first session.  We made it to Marshville for lunchtime and a quick McDonalds milkshake and some fries by the side of the Interstate.  We also took the opportunity to get in touch with Team Stockham.  Once again it was a relief simply to get out of the heat, which was well above 90.

More hills, more heat and into Hartville, for our second Subway of the day; this time only for cookies and some drinks.  We also finally met up with Team Stockham.  Hartville was one of many towns which appears to have felt the full brunt of the recession, with most of the impressive old buildings of downtown sitting idle and empty.  It felt a little as if the heart of the town had stopped beating.

Our plan was to head to Houston, but we still had a long “ways” to go.  As we rode on through a number of hamlets: Graff, Bendavis, Bucyrus and a number of others that appeared to have passed cartographers by, the light began to fade and like David Hasselhoff before us we once again became night riders.

It was a difficult hour on a busy, uphill road, although our mood was lightened by a road sign which indicated that we could turn right for “Houston” or left for “Success”.  We stuck to our plans and turned towards Houston.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the lights of our destination came into view and we were met by Team Stockham in a garage in the centre of town.  In a flurry of activity we also met Frank, one of the original TransAm riders from 1976, who had made it to Eureka on that ride before being involved in a serious accident.  Thirty-four years later, he was completing the journey from Yorktown to Eureka.  An inspirational guy who shared a few stories with us about the original TransAm trip, before heading back to his RV for the evening.  We rode on to our motel – the newly refurbished Lazy Bear Motel – which was the very picture of Byzantine luxury.  We then headed off to a recommended diner for one of the better meals of our trip and a few well earned beers.  It had been a long, hot and hilly day.

JBS

Date: Friday 10th September   

Route: Near Fredonia, Kansas – Pittsburg, Kansas

Distance:   85 miles

Total climb: 1774 ft

Net climb: -30 ft

After a good, if uneventful breakfast in the mythical kingdom of Fredonia, Team Stockham dropped us off back at the junction at which we had finished the previous day.  We made rapid progress to Chanute, where we stopped for a quick McDonalds’ break.  The temperature was already starting to get a touch on the warm side and so Ronald’s milkshakes and air-conditioning proved a welcome break from the heat. 

After we re-emerged into the baking sun, I found that my rear tire had gone flat in the space of 20 minutes.  Tempted as I was to blame some errant youth, it was more a question of fixing the problem than figuring out the cause.  We wheeled the bikes across to the nearest gas station and changed the inner tube while chatting to a local who loved all things to do with Liverpool.  We gave him a few recommendations of things to see and do if he ever made it to the city, before heading back out on the road. 

We planned to stop in Walnut for lunch, but were hindered again by the good people of the Kansas Highways Authority who, in their wisdom, had decided to dig up a section of our route.  We were 7 miles outside of the town of Shaw when a sign informed us that the road was closed in 7.5 miles and that the bike route was closed.  We knew that if we could get across the river outside of Shaw then we would be able to ride around the roadworks.  It was a gamble; but we decided to ride along the road.  At the risk of shattering the suspense built up by this carefully crafted prose, we made it across the river, just before the road came to an abrupt end and we then managed to navigate around the pit that had been left by the road workers.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire; our diversion took us along a small gravel covered road, alongside of which there was a small house with a white picket fence and a friendly pit-bull terrier, who decided to chase us all the way onto highway 59.  This was our first serious dog-race of the day.  It was not the last. 

As we continued to head East, the temperature continued to rise.  By the time we had reached the town of Walnut, it was almost unbearable; our planned lunch break had come at exactly the right time.  We headed into the town bar and downed a couple of cold drinks; however although food was available (frozen pizzas) the bartender seemed unnaturally reticent to actually make any.  We took this as a sign that we should probably head elsewhere and so made tracks for the general store.  It has to be said that the food under the hot lights looked as if it could be something of a biohazard, but I risked it and went for a cheese burger which proved to be very tasty indeed.  Fred played it safe and stuck with an assortment of confectionary. 

We wound up sitting in the general store for a while, drinking coke and intermittently dozing.  The heat had clearly sapped our resolve a touch.  Fred also enjoyed listening to the locals bantering in their Kansan-drawl.  He subsequently claimed that he heard his first vowel-only conversation. 

The afternoon ride into Girard was uneventful, save for yet another dog-chase, this time involving a Rottweiler and three other menacing pooches.  Just as it seemed that we had made it past them, Ronnie the Rottweiler stepped up a gear and reappeared on my right.  Meanwhile, Fred had also picked up the pace and appeared on my left.  In that split second I thought that Parkes was one of the other dogs and I made a move to swipe him with my front pannier.  Fortunately, I missed and we both rode off intact.  With out heart-rates off the charts and Aidan’s words (“Watch out for the dogs in Kansas”) ringing in our ears, we dashed into Girard and met up with Team Stockham who had parked in front of the only B&B in the town. 

We decided to head on to Pittsburg, a town with, of all things, a bike shop.  After giving Team Stockham the slip (they are still getting used to the route maps and suffer from an occasional “misnavigation”) we made it to the corner of 560^th Avenue and Broadway and waited for Tammy the Texan Chariot to arrive.  As soon as it did, Fred was whisked off to buy a new tire before we headed to our motel for the evening; the “Holiday Lodge”.  Perhaps an optimistic name, but a solid motel nonetheless.

Our evening was rounded off by a trip to Napolis for some good Italian home-cooking.  A cracking meal, although it did mean that we missed the home game of Pittsburg’s Gorillas football team and their strong fourth quarter charge to win the game.  Unaware of the result we had a post-dinner drive around the town, taking in the impressive college architecture, the frat house parties and a man dressed in a hot-dog costume running down the street.  Pitsburg was undoubtedly the place to be.  Sadly, the distance from our hotel to the centre of town was too far to walk and in the absence of a taxi firm Parkes and I decided that there was no scope for a night on the tiles.  Early to bed on a Friday night, it was almost as if we had been on the road for 33/36 days…

JBS 

Date: Thursday 9th September   

Route: Newton, Kansas – Near Fredonia, Kansas

Distance:   113 miles

Total climb: 2573 ft

Net climb: -552 ft

In keeping with previous ‘Harry Potter’-style titles, this is the best I can do with today’s events.

The BW provided its usual selection of cereals and pastries to satisfy our breakfast pride, before a 38 mile stretch without food or water, or anything else for that matter. After eating and a stop at thegas station for provisions, we bumbled along quiet roads,past fields of cattle and nodding donkeys, to Cassoday.

The plan was to dine in Cassoday, so we were saddened to find the whole town (population 130) had been hit hard by recent economic conditions. All three shops and the diner were permanently closed, so we sat on a shaded bench outside and ate our reserves of cookies and brownies.

The revised plan was to pedal a further 17 miles to Rosalia for lunch, in the hope that more services would be open – if not, the next major town would be in 39 miles. We scooted along past more fields of cattle and horses and arrived in Rosalia in good time, pleased to see an ‘open’ sign in the diner window.

Two pizzas ordered and sodas flowing, we began conversing with the owner/chef/waiter/barman. In addition to having a ‘hundred head of cattle’ in the fields around town, he ran the diner and offered free insights into a multitude of political, economic and social topics from a proverbial soap box at the bar. I think all customers are given the same level of warm and welcoming interaction, but this did not detract from the entertainment and intellectual stimulation. Over a light lunch we covered trade protectionism, unionisation, optimal fiscal policy, cowboy bravado and the food hygiene issues of a rather unpleasant diner in the next town. The mood of the discussion, to the backing sounds of a sci-fi channel narrator on the television, can be best summarised by our new acquaintance saying, ”if I was President, I’d only last six hours.”

After digesting both food and alternative viewpoints, we charged onwards towards the town of Eureka. Before arriving, we were met by a newcomer to the trip… Team Stockham. It was a mood-lifter to see Julia, John and Tammy, the white chariot from Texas – if things go well, they’ll be around our route all the way to Yorktown. The company will be great and I’m sure we’ll call on their support for the odd lift, instead of relying on locals and their trucks.

Eureka was our target for the day, so it was pleasing to arrive early and in daylight. The town was founded around a fresh water spring, making it appropriate to stock up on beverages at the gas station, where we met two cyclists heading west – not for the first time, they were a little surprised by the schedule we are running to (which is a little unnerving).

We took the decision to get ahead for the day in good but drizzling conditions. More miles through the tires brought us to Toronto, changing landscapes and increasing humidity. In the manner of an adapted Forest Gump, we just kept on cycling. After Coyville, we were offered accommodation by a lady who stopped her car in the middle of the road, but we opted to roll further. We eventually met Team Stockham and headed to a motel in nearby Fredonia, just off the route.

Focused on hitting deadlines for a number of reasons, we’re delighted to be ahead of current schedule and to have made some good extra miles today.

Other loosely noteworthy matters:

• In the spirit of the trip, we are still trying to be as unsupported as is reasonable, given that we need to be in Yorktown before the end of September. This means that we continue to carry all our kit on the bikes. We’ll probably be gratefully accepting lifts from Tammy to bike shops for repairs or to nearby motels (instead of relying on lifts from locals, as we have done in a few cases to date). However, this will not alter our cycling of the entire route, by hook or by crook.
• Our evening meal in Fredonia provided the first prohibition incident of the trip, when we casually ordered three beers on being seated. The waitress, looking less than amused, wouldn’t even respond until we swiftly changed to sodas.
• Our beards are still growing, but are not even close to Mr Gump’s effort.  Despite being many miles beyond the Hoosier Pass now, we are both focused on their development, even though they are hugely irritating in the heat and humidity. However, they do bring some (false?) credibility to our trip when we speak to locals – all forms of gravitas are useful when you are wearing spandex.
• Having mentioned Helen’s friend Katie early in the trip, I’d just like to offer a huge thanks to Guy ‘Humphamania’ Humphreys, for his continued beating of the fundraising drum whilst we pedal onwards. A key influence on our chosen charity was as a gesture to a good friend and a fellow ‘Hawk’ and he’s definitely a part of the trip, eloquently summarising our waffly blogs on social networking sites.

FP

Date: Wednesday 8th September   

Route: Hutchinson, Kansas – Newton, Kansas 

Distance:   49 miles 

Total climb: 739 ft

Net climb: -95 ft

Our day began as all testosterone fuelled, macho days should begin; with breakfast at a chain-diner called “Spangles”.  Despite the questionable name, the good people of Spangles knocked out a pretty decent meal and we headed out on the road to get back to the route.  We rode north along a busy duel-carriageway with a ropey hard-shoulder, but were soon at the turn-off for the route.  Sadly, the first four miles of the road had been dug up in an extensive bit of “road engineering”.  We were politely informed that there was no way that we could take the road as a bridge into the town of Buhler had also been demolished.  We would have to find another route into Buhler.

Fortunately for us the roads of this part of Kansas are laid out in a grid system and so all we had to do was head a few miles north and then ride parallel with the route until we got past the road works.  Unfortunately for us, the roads that we had to take were once again little more than gravel.  Our all terrain training from the previous evening proved to be just the trick and we successfully navigated our way into Buhler for a quick snack in the least American cafe that we have been in to date.  They had salads; and fruit.  Everything was “freshly made”.  It was quite a shock to the system.  Our waiter looked a little surprised when I basically ordered a three course meal while Fred had just a piece of chocolate cake, but the Mustard Seed cafe was undoubtedly quite a find.  We were joined in the cafe by the ROMEOS a group of retired motor-bikers, who, if nothing else, had come up with a snappy, if not that memorable acronym by which to call themselves.

The remainder of the ride into Newton was both short in terms of distance and of memorable events.  Once we had arrived in the town and downed a couple of cans of Coke we agreed that it would be sensible to end the day in Newton given the surplus of accommodation and restaurants; the fact that there was nothing on the route for the next forty miles and what appeared to be an impending thunderstorm (the humidity was almost unbearable).  The decision was followed by an extensive survey of all of the motels in Newton before opting for the Best Western – where else. 

Our evening was taken up with washing kit, swimming/jacuzzi, some good teamwork on Lethal Enforcers (an arcade game) and two epic games of table-tennis – both won by Parkes.  Dinner in the Montana Steakhouse – where of course we both chose to have pasta – rounded off our half-day in style.

JBS

Date: Tuesday 7th September    

Route: Larned, Kansas – Hutchinson, Kansas 

Distance:   72 miles

Total climb: 443 ft

Net climb: -433 ft

For the third consecutive morning, we wandered over to the breakfast room at our lodgings in Larned. After two days of being ‘breakfast shy’ (holding back on consumption of the all-you-can-eat buffet due to other residents being present), today’s trip was ‘breakfast proud’ – I sank more bowls of cereal than I care to remember, ready for some mileage to come.

We needed to get to a bike shop in Great Bend, for repairs to my wheel. Our first tactics involved calling all the taxi companies in area, although we quickly discovered that there are no such things as taxi companies that give people a lift for money in this part of the USA – I’m still not sure what they actually do to make them a taxi service. Second to this, we tried to source a hire car from Larned. Our only option appeared to be a 30 foot UHaul lorry – I was tempted to give it a whirl, but common sense kicked in. Jay wandered over to the hotel reception for alternative means of transport, where he bumped into a lady called Katie, who was just about to head to Great Bend in her truck for some groceries – superb.

We raced to clean out our rooms and pile the kit in the back of her truck, before heading off to the bike shop. Doug at Golden Belt Bicycles was on hand to mend my wheel and give the ladies a once over, whilst providing good conversation (albeit having a misunderstanding of the present standing of Manchester United – below the Gunners). The incredibly helpful Katie waited an hour for our bikes to be sorted, giving us a lift back to Larned.

Once in Larned, we popped to Wendys for a trusty burger lunch and set off for Nickerson, roughly 58 miles away. It came as no surprise that our route would be into the wind again, but at least the sun was shining and our wheels were true. We pootled past more grain silos and vast fields, before the landscape shifted to wetlands and more trees than we have seen in the last week in total. After dust and dry plains for a number of days, it was interesting to cruise past the salt marshes of the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge and surrounding area.

With no towns or other facilities in 58 miles, our stops consisted of sitting at the roadside, eating snacks and sipping on our magic potions o f Gatorade and water. The afternoon faded into evening as we approached Nickerson, where we noted another college football game underway on the edge of town – potential entertainment for the evening. However, our scheduled accommodation was located a mile out of town, on the far side.

We pedalled over to Hedrick’s B&B, situated amongst paddocks of ostriches, zebra, giraffes and camels. Unfortunately, the B&B was closed and we were treated with rather abrupt responses from the owners over the telephone. Therefore, we decided to seek alternative accommodation for The Banshee (our tent) – sleeping with the giraffes would have enhanced the blog entry for the day, but wasn’t wholly appealing.

After enquiring in town, we were warned that the only place for camping was the city park, which was rife with swarms of mosquitoes. With a long day ahead of us tomorrow, this did not sound ideal. We therefore took the executive decision to add to our mileage for the day and the trip by heading off route to nearby Hutchinson, in search of a good night’s sleep, but not before a burger.

Burgers devoured and refill sodas supped, we set off in the dark for Hutchinson. The main road there was 15 miles long, with a good surface but no hard shoulder. We started along this until Jay decided he was not keen on the traffic – time to Greta the Garmin to raise her game.

To put in context the next few miles, it is worth mentioning that most of the road systems in Kansas are set out with one major route surrounded by a vast grid of parallel and perpendicular ‘roads’ (read farm tracks) – if you have a spare moment and/or the inclination, do a google map search of Nickerson to get a feel for this. Generally, we ride on the major roads and avoid the farm tracks, but not tonight.

We turned off onto a sand track, for an alternative run in to Hutchinson. After rolling slowly and sinking into the track, I spent the first two miles pushing Rosie and moaning at Jay’s route selection. However, due to repeated hearing of Simon and Lyndsay from the Fast Show calling, “Let’s go offroading” in my head, I attempted to master the skill of riding by headlight in inches of sand along unmarked ‘roads’ on an overloaded bike whilst being barked at by dogs. It turned out to be quite a novel experience.

After 10 miles on sand tracks (taking well over an hour), we arrived in Hutchinson and were delighted to find a motel for the night. A slightly longer day to follow meant that we were quick to head to bed. Full credit to Greta for her guidance and I’ll admit that Jay’s decision to avoid the main roads wasn’t a bad one.

Final bullet points:

• It is good to be back on the road again, although spoke anxiety remains high and we’d both be delighted to venture into new terrain and new maps.
• Jay appears to have taken on the role of ‘Saviour of Terrapins’, by lifting one from the road today. I’m sure we’ll see more in the next few days.
• The barking dogs tonight were somewhat unnerving, since some of the cyclists we have met on the trip have warned specifically of “the Dogs of Kansas”. No bites or attacks yet, so fingers crossed.

FP

Sunday 5th September and Monday 6th September

Despite our best efforts we were stuck in Larned for both the Sunday and Monday of Labour Day weekend.  All of the bike shops within a 100 mile radius were closed until Tuesday and public transport appears to be an entirely alien concept to the people of the Great Plains.

Consequently we spent our enforced double rest-day coming up with plans for getting to a bike shop when they re-opened (plans included hiring a 26-foot long moving van from U-Haul and driving to the nearest bike shop), writing the blog (but failing to post it due to technical issues with posterous), watching television (in particular the first series of “The T.O. Show” a reality TV-series about the life and loves of controversial NFL wide-receiver Tyrell Owens) and eating more meals in Pizza Hut than was either healthy or decent.  We did wander into Larned again on Monday but everything was closed, save for the grocery store and we could still not find a way into the Bat Cave.

Our three evenings and two days in Larned covered the full gamut of emotions: joy, frustration, excitement, anger, amusement and even a touch of heartache.  Nonetheless, despite all of our efforts, we went to bed on Monday evening unsure of how we would get the bikes back into a fit state for riding the following day.

JBS