I had intended to get to Manhattan, KS, but I think this was the toughest day of the 16 I’ve done. Temps were over 100, wind was varying from 10 to 20 mph out of the southeast, and the gnats were ever present. The weather channel hasn’t predicted the winds correctly in Kansas yet. The first few hours of the day were phenomenal, I was on highway 9 and saw the best of Kansas. It was a beautiful area that had rolling hills outlined with low leafy trees and pines. The road was fortunately flat though, so I had a good pace going. A sweet smell of grass permeated the area and everything seemed soft. Until about 11am when the winds came followed by searing heat. Then the rollers. And then *ping*! I blew a spoke. But I didn’t recognize it at first. I had heard spokes go before, but never on my own bike. I came to a quick stop forced by what I thought were the rear brakes jammed on the wheel. They were, as well as the wheel pressed against the lower chain stay (or whatever it’s called). The wheel had also popped out of the drop outs which gave me quite a scare out in the middle of Kansas nowhere. I thought to myself I had finally done it, I blew the rear axle or cracked the quick release for the rack. 2,300 miles and here I was with a bum rack and wheel. There wasn’t much hope for me now. Now for most folks who know my mechanical ability, you should be laughing by now. An accountant with little mechanical ability on the side of a deserted road littered with his belongings. Man versus bike… well, scared little tights wearing dude against a gnarly piece of unresponsive machinery. I talked to the wheel for a bit, but it didn’t say anything. I tried reseating the wheel when I noticed the floppy spoke. Hopefully that was it – and it was. I was back on the road with a slight wobble on the back… No attempt at truing for me, I already had my set of firsts – a blown spoke and installing a new one. Besides, I figure Manhattan would have an able mechanic when they opened the next morning. I think the spoke was blown due to the weight on the rack distributed unevenly and attempting to blast through the Kansas rollers by standing. So the prescription is: redistribution of weight to center, and no more standing. Let’s hope for the best…
The day wore on as well as the rollers. I spotted a Kansas rock slide and took a picture, it appeared dangerous. There should be a retaining wall.
The heat pressed through my skin, boiling the moisture underneath. I noticed my skin was getting patchy so I stopped in Downs for a bite to eat and a break from the heat. A foot long sub and 96 oz of Gatorade later, I was back on the road. That’s 3 quarts in one sitting people. I don’t know where it went. My usual rule of Gatorade purchase before was to buy what I needed plus one, so usually 96 oz of Gatorade (3 32 oz bottles). This time it was 192 oz purchased (1.5 gallons). Thanks for the 2 for $3 promotion!
I made it to Beloit before I had to stop again, this time 64 oz of Gatorade fell victim to my appetite. I also noticed a curious thing happening to my body. As I was sitting at the table in the gas station, I felt my eyes were rolling into the back of my head. I was losing control of the muscles in my eyes. I decided to stay a little longer and chat with the locals. It was 92 miles to Manhattan, and it was 3:30. It would be night riding again for me. One of the locals told me about a group of cyclists going cross country from the east, I didn’t see them though.
It was another hard 60 miles of rollers to Clay Center, I arrived at 7:30. If I were to push to Manhattan I would be in the dark at least until 10pm. I decided it would be safer to cut it short for the evening. I stayed at the Cedar Court Motel for another $40 or so. These small mom and pop places are starting to grow on me, they provide the same breakfast, towels, etc. And since they own the place, they take pride in it and protect it. This particular motel had a Mexican restaurant attached to it and I took advantage of their enchiladas and ice cream.
Y’all may wonder what I do during the day to keep me occupied, since cycling probably is more of the background of my waking hours. Today I watched the sweat pool in my sunglass lenses and I would see just how much I could gather up before dumping it out on to the top bar of the bike. Then I would ponder just how much salt had accumulated underneath. Sometimes I would count the minutes between cars. For less travelled roads like highway 7 there were as many as 6 minutes between cars I would see. Bored of counting minutes I would then thank my nose for its curvature and its ability to drain away the sweat, I would inevitably count the seconds between drips. I cheated sometimes by dipping my head… I would count the miles before the next town and figure my time of arrival. When I was in the northwest I would not do so much counting because I had a lot to see around me. In Kansas there were the same fields of grain all around me, but as I went further east the trees became more numerous. A welcome sign of a nearing east coast.
You know how your lower back sweats when you’re sitting in the sun and you’re wearing too much clothing? When the sun is over my back in the afternoon it makes the entire front of my body sweat. It is a tremendous wash of salt and keeps me occupied from getting it in my eyes.
So that’s how I spend my day in Kansas.
I was extremely tired again, and quickly went to sleep. I managed a little more than 2 gallons worth of Gatorade plus about 64 oz of water. Tomorrow I will head as far as I can get without worrying much about the average speed. I’m a little beat down so I’m not going to set a goal.
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