I’ve waited a few days for a break in the weather. The forecast said it was going to happen today, so I was excited this morning as we sipped our coffee and discussed our plans for the day. Vickie could tell by the look in my eyes, without even saying a word, that I was going for a ride. We’ve been back in Colorado for two weeks, and I’ve managed to accumulate a piddling 80 miles.
That was going to change this morning. I was thinking thirty-five, but I would be satisfied with thirty and might push for forty if my legs were still feeling strong after a few hours in the saddle. We had a gnarly system come through a few days ago, bringing a lot of rain, so it’s probably still a little dicey, and that will play on my decision, I reckon. Another cell (Tornado) leveled an entire town in Kansas about 100 miles east of here.
It was in the low 40ºs this morning, so I wore my rain/wind suit to get started, and it was cool. I couldn’t decide which way to go; the wind was out of the west at 3 or 4 mph (just right), but it was supposed to pick up speed and move to the south as the morning progressed. I went west into the light breeze on Gun Club Road.
Peck-a-da-Pecko
A Red-Headed Woodpecker was hammering away on a cedar fence post, so I turned around to try and get a picture, but he wasn’t interested in having a spectator and flew off. “Peck-a-da Pecko, Peck-a-da Pecko, that’s the Woody Woodpecker song.” I went west for a while but changed my mind and headed north after a couple of miles.
About six miles into the ride, I noticed a pickup coming up behind me, so I slowed down and moved to the right to give it plenty of room. They slowed down and yelled out the window, and I realized it was my nephew and his son. I stopped, and we chatted for a bit about fishing, bicycling, and work, but I have little to offer on the last topic; I prefer to stick with bicycling and fishing.
They motored right at the T intersection, and I pedaled left. I didn’t see another human for over thirty miles. There were signs of civilization, though. As I picked up speed heading towards the Old Wells, I was watching for the big German Shepherd that lives there. I didn’t see him and assumed he was inside – Not!
Toothy Missile
He came flying at me at high speed, a snarling eighty-pound missile. Luckily, his brakes aren’t very good, and he overshot me by a significant margin. I think, in dog years, he’s probably older than me, so he didn’t have enough gumption to make another run at me, and I pedaled merrily off to the east, my heartbeat still well within range.
I worked up a good sweat, though, so I stopped and took off my jacket down near the old stage stop on the “Butterfield Overland Despatch” that came through here over 160 years ago, bringing fortune seekers from Kansas City to the gold fields of Cherry Creek on the “Smoky Hill Trail.” In another 10 miles, it was time to stop and take off the wind pants as I crossed back over the Smoky Hill River, which is just a dry creek bed 99.9% of the time.
The Long Way
I decided to take the long way home, and by the time I coasted back into Emerald City with a 9 mph breeze at my back, I had logged a little over 38 miles, burned nearly 1500 calories, and spent 3 hours in the saddle. I also clocked the highest Heart Rate of the season at 160 BPM. There were a few nasty, crusty sections of road, but overall, the road surface on this route was the best of the season, so far.
