Spoked In the Eye: Day 1: Kansas Colorado Border to Fowler

Miles traveled: 117 (+3 miles of tooling around Fowler and such)
Ride Time: around 7:25 (I rode around Fowler for a bit and forgot to check the time)
Average speed: 15.25 (I guess, see above)

The crowd of morning “regulars” at J.R.’s in Holly barely noticed the couple walk into the store; guy dressed in a bike jersey wearing socks and sandals (very German of him) and his female counterpart dressed in a blue merino wool sweater and jeans smartly rolled to Capri length. A pair of thumbs couldn’t get more sore unless you hit them with a hammer. The morning’s conversation carried on; so-and-so got a new Guernsey someone was wrestling with a dry patch in his hay, another discussing his winter wheat which is already coming up. I imagine outsiders typically come in, make their purchases and then leave sleepy Holly, Colorado in their dust. The couple today however sat down in an empty booth, and it didn’t take long for one of the regulars, an older fellow in a camo ball cap and flannel shirt, who’s contribution to conversation earlier centered on dove hunting, inquired about the words on the young man’s jersey.

“Share the road? Don’t you get scared with all them cars on the road. I know how people drive.” And with that the thread of conversation for the regulars, conversant on topics pertaining to weather, agriculture, field sport and other rural affairs, turned instead to cycling. “If I were to want to ride more than the next block I’d have to get into shape. Round is a shape, but its not the kind that’s going to help me anywhere,” chimed a younger fellow who soon left to tend to other business. Another offered insight on distances, the man in the camouflage hat an anecdote about a new story about bikes. Apparently a high value bike relates well to the cost of a high value shotgun. No one entreated a dismissive remark. No one suggested cyclists should get off the road, or that cyclists don’t pay taxes. They were interested and welcoming.

When I told folks about my plans to ride across Colorado many offered missives about the eastern plains; about how flat it is, how boring it would be. Well I fancy myself of a pseudo agrarian at heart (or at least a wannabe) so the trip through farms, fields and rural landscapes was actually quite an enjoyable one for me. I’ve walked into what has to be several dozen eateries in the Denver area and probably could count on one hand the number of times anyone has struck up a conversation with me. Perhaps I give off an air of distance or aloofness…or perhaps there’s something to say about old-fashioned courtesy.

I certainly appreciated the slower pace of life, and driving, out here on the eastern plains. I could tell an out of state plate coming up behind me just based on the sound of the gunning engine (that excludes some of the local grain trucks…my idyllic pastoral scene really took a turn for the negative choking down the dust of passing grain harvest for miles.) On my way west today I met a number of very friendly and interesting individuals who stopped to chat about my ride. Everyone I spoke to about my trip wished me well and a safe journey. Its nice to have complete strangers be empathetic and concerned about your well being. I talked to some folks at the visitor center in Lamar, which is a beautifully restored train depot. I talked to a fellow and his daughter outside a convenience store in Las Animas. He too assured me he couldn’t ride even a block, and when I suggested practicing, he said he couldn’t practice either. But he was more than intrigued with my bike, the gear shift leavers on the bar ends, the number of speeds, the speedometer and my clipless pedals. I met a biker (motor that is) outside of another convenience store in La Junta. He was extremely interested in my plans, practically down to the mileage of each day. When traveling by bike one can’t help but be slow, especially when laden with over 50lbs of gear. So the going is slow. But it seems that many of the people I met today weren’t in a hurry either. They wanted to stop, take a moment from their day and spend it chatting with me. They were almost moving at bike speed too, even though not on bikes themselves.

Ok, shifting gears to some of the specifics of the day. We got up at 5:00 and quickly showered, loaded the car and got on the road for the 30 mile trek to the border. We stopped in Holly to eat and then were quickly on the state line and prepping for the ride. It was hard to see Kate and Bean leave both because I know I will miss them and that their departure signified the solitude in which I now find myself in on the road. I made pretty good time with a bit of headwind into Lamar. I stopped, fueled up, visited the visitor center and then was on the road and enjoying a nice cross to tail wind. I made much better time at this point and enjoyed the scenery more than the beginning. I felt really good until I got close to Las Animas. The heat was really on at this point and I was getting a bit fatigued and hungry. I stopped for lunch and fluids. This helped get me going again and I felt strong for a while in route to La Junta. About 8 miles out of La Junta the shoulder all but disappeared. This unnerved me and I pushed the pace to be done with it. Pushed to the point of exhaustion I rolled into La Junta and took another break. Now facing the 29 mile home stretch I got going. I did well but had to stop in the shade of some trees just outside Manzanola to cool down and hydrate. The last 9 miles to Fowler I was in ’the zone’. Not the stupendous, performance zone: the tired and beyond caring about much zone. The last 9 miles kind of flew by thankfully and my spirits lifted when I found the Fowler city limits and a Loaf and Jug to get ice water. I’m now camped in Fowler at kind of a crazy place. Its an RV campground with a tent area, run by a crazy old codger and his wife. Very nice folks but kind of in their own world…which includes two semi shaved Pekinese and a lot of old, disassembled farm implements. I got a cold shower (by choice) ate a hearty and very manly dinner (convenience store Dinty Moore) and then went over to the Fowler High School for some Friday night lights. I sat on the bench and cheered the good plays, texted Kate and watched the crowd root for the home team. I rooted for Fowler too, my temporary home for tonight. Starting to yawn I’m now back at camp, typing this update before hopefully what will be a nice, well deserved rest.

Day 1, ’The Long Day’, in the books.