Fourth Shift: Slow In Nebraska

The past few days have been some of the hardest of this whole ride, somewhat physically but mostly mentally. So I will update on the past few days. Leaving Ainsworth, we wanted to end our day in a little town called Cody. The wind was mild from the west, but allowed us to get to Valentine, about 50 miles away, within 5 hours. After an extended lunch, we again pressed on toward Cody. However, the weather had changed. Temperatures had dropped from the 70's to the fifties, and worse, the wind had picked up much more than it had previous. Headwinds, a cyclists arch-nemesis, not only impede progress and require much more psychosocial effort for speed, but also, its mentally draining. The noise is deafening, blocking out any attempt at positive concentration and serving as a constant reminder that your progress is under its control. We found ourselves creeping along at 5mph, a jogging pace. Looking at the map, we saw a little town ahead called crookston. We decided to wait there until night, hoping the wind would die down enough for us to ride at reasonable pace. Pulling into crookston was disappointing, a few houses and church scattered on the side of a hill, large grain elevators being the center of activity. The church yard looked like the best place to take shelter from the wind. We must have looked quite odd to the people driving by in this small town.

We found out that the pastor lived next to the church, getting permission from his wife to set up camp in the yard. It was depressing looking at the weather, a system which would bring cold air and strong winds would stay in the area for the next two days. The church yard would be our camp tonight.

The pastor, a small yet gentle looking man, white hair in his mid to late 70s, pulled up just as we began to shiver from the cold. He invited us in for hit chocolate. After a long and depressing day, it was exactly what we needed. This couple, who ministered this church of only 10'people blessed us more than we could ask. After an invitation for breakfast was accepted, we crawled into out sleeping bags and tried to sleep. The wind, which from the inside of our tents sounded more formidable did not diminish after dusk, not even when we awoke in the morning.

The hot breakfast of biscuits and gravy and scrambled eggs, served by the pastor and his wife was enough to make is forget about the hard wind outside. With our bellies full and spirits livened for even a short while, we headed west. It was apparent in the first hour that progress would only come at a great and strenuous cost. Nebraska is relatively flat, making biking theoretically easy. However, the force of this winds, 30mph sustained with 45mph gusts, snuffed out whatever confidence we had about making good mileage. Never before had I had to struggle in my lowest gear going down hill. Gravity even lost to the wind on some declines. The real loser was our spirits. We had to stop every mile just to mentally and physically recoup. One way which I tired to deal with the searing noise was to try and form a ear muff using a littered McDonald's cup and tape. It did not work. We even, for amusement, found that we could walk our bike as fast. After 3 hours, we had only gone 10 miles, the days goal would have to be yesterday's goal. Making the town of Cody and its campground our destination.

We pulled into Cody wet, cold and hungry. Stopping attend only grocery store in 60 miles to buy ingredients for our supper. The park was not shielded from the wind at all, making supper difficult to make with shivering hands. As our quesidillas were cooking, a car pulled up near to our campsite. The driver had said that they had seen us from their window and used to bike so they understood that we were probably not looking forward to sleeping cold and wet. They offered us their garage to sleep in which would be warmer and dryer than the park. Repacking our stuff we headed to the garage. It was indeed warmer and dryer, but for that benefit we sacrificed the soft ground for hard concrete. Because we did such a short distance, we had some time to kill before hitting the sack. Although Cody is a small town, around 100 people, it still serves as the hub for the townspeople and the surrounding ranchers. The center of this was the "Husker Hub" a small bar and grill and the only building other than the bank that did not look old and unoccupied. Sauder, Drew and I made our way, hoping to get some food and drink and warm place to kill some time.
We are getting used to the stares we get when we waltz into these small towns. We are not only "out of towners" but we are strangely dressed "out of towners", brightly colored neon yellow jackets, cycling shorts, dirty oily hair, and what we assume, bad smelling. We stayed at the bar for a few hours, trying to squeeze out as much cell phone reception to call and text our wives and girlfriends, enjoying the warmth. Soon however, it began to fill up. We figured we better get going. The night spend in the garage on the concrete floor went well. We awoke once again to a strong westerly wind and rain creating a racket on the metal roof. We had bought a dozen eggs and frozen sausage the night before and had gotten permission to use an electric grill in the garage. After cooking breakfast, which was much more complicated than usual, we hesitantly set out into the cold hard wind. Like the two days previous, the going was slow. The clouds above us billowed violently to their unknown destination. However, some blue sky began to become visible. A sight we have not seen in days. As entered the famous sand hills region of Nebraska, it began to warm. The wind died down and even shifted slightly to our side, a crosswind is much more favorable than one to the front. Soon the sun was out, and the wind was to our backs. I now found myself enjoying the seemingly endless miles of ranch land; the cattle which dotted surround hills far away and watering holes near the road provided a change in scenery. We had a leasiourly lunch at small town gas station, bread, salami and hot sauce, nacho chips smashed in between. Because Northern Nebraska is so isolated, we have to plan our stops in accordance with towns with adequate supplies ( gas stations, grocery stores, camping), we decided to stop at around 55 miles in the town of Gordan, much better than the previous day's 25 miles. Sitting in the gas station which doubled as a subway, I wondered if I should call the sheriff and inquire if we could camp in a park. Right then, I saw the sheriff walk out of the door. I made my way to him before he got into his patrol car. How does one address a police officer? Mr. Cop? Mr. Officer? Hey man?? I picked a safe, "Hey, Um yea,"! The quick awkwardness was over when I began to explain our situation. He said we were welcome to stay in the park and that he would notify the night patrol to check in on us. The park we are staying in has bathrooms with hot water and soft green grass, the weather is mild with no rain in sight. A situation which makes this adventure much more pleasant. We have taken much needed sponge baths, and have done some laundry using the sinks. now, time to relax to prepare for the next day of riding. Hopefully, we can make it to the Wyoming border tomorrow.