Day 22

Mileage: 125
Total mileage: 1846

Today I felt like a machine. Nothing particularly outstanding about the day, but nothing really went wrong, and that felt great!

I woke up at a nice, late 7:20, and by 7:30 I was clipped into my bike and rolling. I debated grabbing breakfast in Eureka, but decided I wanted to put on some miles first to work up an appetite.

The 20 mile grind into Rosalia certainly did just that. I was fighting an oblique headwind from the south west and steadily climbing through the Flint Hills, which are absolutely gorgeous. I tried so many times today to capture the sheer size of the wide open grasslands on camera, but every time, my pictures couldn't do it justice.

I showed up in Rosalia, ravenous and ready for breakfast, only to find that nothing is open in that tiny town on a Saturday. A nice lady by the Post Office confirmed my first impression and wished me better luck at my next stop, Cassoday, 17 more miles north.

In search of breakfast, I pulled hard to the north, but this time I had the wind on my side! There is a world of difference between grinding 13 mph over flat land and shooting ahead of the breeze at 24 mph. I made those 17 miles in just under 50 minutes, only to find that Cassoday was shut down as well. To give an idea of the disappointment you face when you roll through a tiny town where nothing is open, I took a picture of Cassoday from the post office. I saw one car while I was there and it was funny to watch her carefully stop at each stop sign as she pulled through 'town.'

Fortunately, there's a highway less than a mile north of town and I was able to find a trucker stop where I downed a mess of sloppy Joe's and cinnamon rolls. I needed it, because the next stretch was marked on my map as 'no services, 40.5 miles.'

This was back into the wind, so I knuckled down and ground out another 3 hours before I finished that long stretch, at the town of Newton. I knew going into Newton that I wanted four things, food, ice cream, to top off my tire pressure at the bike shop and a library to get more audio books and post blog entries.

Right as I was coming through town, I saw a giant sign shaped like an ice cream cone that said 'hamburgers.' Boom. Two down. The bike shop closes early on Saturdays and my trip to the library was brief. I wanted to get some Nietzsche for Colorado, some Thoreau for Wyoming and some Muir for Idaho/Wyoming since I won't be going through California.

The last pull of the day was between two fairly large cities, so I had consistent enough service to call my sister Katrina and wish her a happy birthday. We chatted for a while, which made the miles go by much faster. About 25 miles from my final destination my phone died so I was left to slog out the remaining bit in silence.

The last eight miles into Nickerson, where I'm staying tonight, are all on this single flat and straight road. I was lazily meandering along, bemoaning my sore butt after 115 miles when I noticed a storm gathering in the distance. Pretty soon lightning was flashing on the horizon and I could hear the thunder rolling by. It became a race. Me, now energized, on my lit-up bike flying down a deserted road, with the last light draining out of the sky. All hundred-odd miles of fatigue totally gone as my legs were quickly pumping in cadence. Thunderheads in the distance towering black and high, descending inexorably on little Nickerson. I think that stretch is going to be one of my favorite memories of this whole trip so far, it felt so epic.

I ended up winning and getting to the city park and picnic shelters before the rain started coming down. Tonight I'm crashing on a comfy picnic table again before tomorrow's haul. I heard from a racer that I'm supposed to get a tailwind tomorrow so I have no idea how far I'll be traveling. I'd better get some sleep, G'night!