Who let the dogs out? – Day 33

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