It is amazing what a difference a day makes. Yesterday I rode 75.4 miles with an average speed of 12.9 mph. I finished exhausted. Today I rode 76.1 at 16.3 mph. And while not ready to dance the night away, I was able to walk to the motel bar and order a beer, under my own power. Maybe the terrain had something to do with it. The roads, not the path to the motel bar.

There were three events today that I, and likely a few others too, would consider a big deal. The first was our completion (sans detours, thank you) of 2,000 miles. Ordinarily this would be a big year for me cycling wise, and yet, I am still not 2/3rds done with one lousy trip. So yeah, it’s kinda a big deal.

The other, and I think the biggest deal of the day was the crossing of the mighty Mississippi River. I should mention that ordinarily US-24 has one, two lane bridge east bound, and one west bound. The first several hundred yards of the east bound bridge is currently under the Mississippi River, rather than over it. Therefore they have two way traffic on the west bound side and we hugged the railing. Which, unfortunately we are getting used to. I will tell you that I was grinning all the way across, it is very cool to cross the Mississippi on a bike.

Since there are no signs facing west, on the west bound bridge, we had to detour over to the closed bridge to get photos. Which brings me to my last big deal.

We passed into our 8th state. The day went well. Tomorrow we take a big bite out of Illinois with a 104 mile stretch to Springfield. Thanks for riding along.

Our day started with cool temperatures, clear skies and tired legs. We knew, thanks to the recent flooding, that we would have a hindrance today in the form of a bridge being out.

But, our fearless CrossRoads staff was not going to let an inconvenience get in the way of a ride. It is generally accepted knowledge that when confronted with this type of obstacle, you can go around, go under, or get a ladder and go over. Cheers to Tom A. for walking up to a Missouri farm house, at dusk and asking for the use of a ladder for the next day.

This morning as I waited in anticipation of today’s ride I caught sight of a reed-thin specter lurking in the back of the Penski truck. I immediately recognized this form as the near mythical pedaler who has completed this cross country ride 21 times. Gathering my nerve I inched closer to the truck and before losing all composure I blurted out, “Is it true what they say about the Missouri Rollers?” Shocked at my own audacity, I turned to flee when a small voice, with a Texas twang breathed, “there’s 148 hills, in the last 50 miles.” I chanced again, “Is it really true that if one pedals hard down, he can coast to the next peak?” “Some, perhaps” was the quiet reply, as he turned to his duties in the back of the truck. Encouraged by what I assumed was sage advice, I pushed out of town and immediately started slowly grinding up hill after hill after hill. But, we were still in the first 25 miles of our ride so I was undeterred. After our first sag I attacked what could only be hill #1 of 148.

Cruching along at 6 1/2 mph, I finally crested the peak, to find a small run followed by a grinding climb, followed by a pulverizing climb, followed by a soul crushing climb. Through the sweat, tears and cursing, I flew up but two “rollers” without having to stand and moan and groan. After 75 miles I finally dragged my battered pride and ruined knees into the motel. There, standing amid the baggage in his snow white Nike’s was the keeper of the count. I peered up and gasped, I cleared but 2 rollers, all day long. His reply, “I said some, and perhaps.” Looking him in the eye, “using all of my skill, strength and stamina, I could not make a top without standing and grunting and sweating and swearing those rollers.” With pity and perhaps a touch of derision, “you asked about rollers, I said there were 148 HILLS. And you should know by now, the only way to the top of a hill is to climb.”

In 75 miles and over 148 hills, we climbed over 4,000 feet. Tomorrow is 76 miles and I am not yet even thinking about the climb part. Thank you for riding along.

Today started with no rain and no fire trucks. It was however, warm, with a promise of getting warmer. We were promised 87 miles and a little over 4,000 feet of climbing. Right out of the motel parking lot we began to believe the second promise would ring true.

The big shebang was our tour through Maysville, the county seat of DeKalb County. We quickly learned DeKalb is pronounced with a silent l. Anyway, it was something of a happening in this town of 1,200 souls. It started with all of the kids being let out of the elementary school to watch us parade by, lined up two by two. Honest! We then pedaled the remaining 250′ into downtown, where the DeKalb County Historical Society sponsored our sag. The ladies provided homemade cinnamon rolls and lemonade. The men talked to us about the flooded fields. It was fantastic. As a rule, people are so nice.

We spent too much time learning about the history of DeKalb county but I would not trade that 30 minutes of the ride for 50 miles of tailwind. I will post a picture of the kids when I get one from Tom A. Being a part of the big parade, I had no time for mundane photography.

From there it got miserable. We had been hearing about the Missouri rollers and we faced them for the next 57 miles. The steepest was 13% and the temperature hit 105. It was an incredibly slow day, and yes, we also had a headwind. I might mention we witnessed some of the flooding the farmers are so concerned about. They have valid concerns.

We all got to Chillicothe but with little spare time left in the day. Tomorrow is supposed to be the big roller day. It is planned that we ride 75 miles into Kirksville. I am whipped, so I will spare you any more patter. Thank you for riding along.

Thank you, Led Zeppelin

When your day starts with rain and burnt toast, really burnt toast, you just know it’s not going to get any better.

Actually the rain only lasted for a short time and the first 58 miles went rather smoothly.

Our 58 mile sag was at the Atchison, Kansas Dairy Queen, so what could possibly go wrong. Funny you should ask. As it turns out a levee, built to hold back the Missouri River, broke. And highway 59 was now part of the mighty Missouri. As luck would have it, a state trooper was at the Dairy Queen and after considerable consultation, an alternate route was devised. Not a good route, but there just aren’t that many bridges over this river and the next closest was 40 miles south. I won’t bore you with all of the horrors but for the next 14 miles of our route we had to line up with our vans in front and back to escort us along. There were two lanes, steep hills, no shoulder and lots of trucks. We had to pull off about every mile to let the traffic pass. I not only learned how to work an escorted line, I learned some new, very explicit, expletives. These were mainly directed at me and my cycling friends. But at one pull off, we saw this cool cow.

And then things got bad. We had to do 20 some miles on highway 36 which is two lanes, a 2′ wide shoulder and all of the traffic that used to be on Rt. 59. In spite of everything, there was one saving grace!

As we crossed over a very swollen Missouri River, we entered our 7th state.

So our 84 mile reasonably calm day turned into a difficult 98 miles taking 9 hrs. and 15 minutes. But we all made it safely to our appointed motel. Tomorrow we ride 87 miles to Chillicothe, Missouri. And allow me one last cool, quick and happy story. Just so you are aware, it had stormed last night. And when Dana left in the lead van this morning, he thought he heard something, but it was noisy and rainy and he had people to take care of. Well at about 18 miles he stopped to help someone, I think with a flat, and heard a definite meow coming from somewhere. He lifted the hood and there between the wheel well and the washer fluid, was a little stowaway.

Believe it or not, they were in the parking lot of a vet, so they took it inside, and the office said, with a story like that, we’ll easily get him adopted out.

Thank you for riding along.

Something of an uncommon denominator, but it can be reduced to 1/2 which we are just past. It seems ages since I dipped my wheel into the surf of Manhattan Beach, and even longer since entering Kansas. However, I must admit, today Kansas showed us her stuff. Her eastern side is green! Go figure.

My second surprise was the land’s evolution from the purely horizontal to something less so.

The first 22 miles of our ride could be called nothing less than gorgeous. I still can’t get over how different this part of the state is. There are rolling hills, (sometimes aggressively rolling hills, but more on that later) fields of clover, cows contentedly chewing on same and no people. A man could get used to this place.

Allow me a quick aside that was just pointed out by Wikipedia. The Flint Hills were first referred to as the Flint Hills, in 1804, by Zebulon Pike. Yes, the same Zebulon Pike who declared the mountain, now known as Pikes Peak, would never be climbed. Be that as it may, the hills part of Flint Hills, can be climbed by bicycle, but more than a bit of work is involved. We climbed over 3,300 feet today, but wound up at pretty much the same elevation we started out at. So it goes.

After a stop for pie in Dover, apple crumb with ice cream thank you, we pushed the last 14 miles of our 80 mile day, up and down the Flint Hills toward Topeka. And it got hot. Like over 100 hot. And it is humid in Kansas. I am now well versed in riding at over 100 degrees in the dry desert, and the wet midwest. They are both uncomfortable.

We are now in Topeka, and why mention the state. We have pedaled 1,734 miles, and climbed over 54,000 feet. Which, when you think about, is pretty cool. Tomorrow we head for St. Joe, a tiny bit longer day at 81 miles. Thank you for riding along.

Ahh, after nine days of toil, rest. I did sleep, until 6 instead of 5 and I did dream; mostly about pedaling up an endless hill, only to find myself at the bottom once again. Admittedly it takes a bored boy to mix the Bard and Sisyphus on a Tuesday afternoon. But here I am. It’s not that Grand Junction has nothing to offer. I cleaned my bike. It was a deep, wheels off, and lots of citrus degreaser kind of clean. I got a haircut, and although the shingle reads, Great Cuts, it was really just okay. So in the interest of giving you something on our 6th, but not last day in Kansas, I will give you insight into navigating the tour.

Tip sheet: see below.

Everyone has 44 tip sheets, one for each day of riding on tour. These are turn by turn instructions down to the 1/10th of a mile. This one, being in Kansas says turn right out of motel, go straight for 32.1 miles, left to sag, go another 33 miles and turn left past Arby’s into motel.

This sheet is the one we will use from Richmond, IN, into Marysville, OH. This includes our sag in Covington, OH.

Most people have Garmins that they have programmed to give them turn by turn directions with a map. The instructions for my Lezyne GPS swear I can download these maps too, but the process has eluded both myself and our millennial mechanic. So I ordered a phone mount (Amazon, 2-day delivery is incredibly convenient and pretty darn reliable) and have my phone/GPS strapped to my handlebar stem. In front of the phone is my tip sheet, and beside it is my GPS bike computer.

So when I am not looking at the endlessly shifting scenery of Kansas, I am looking at my GPS or listening for my phone to tell me to turn right in 23.7 miles. I bet you will be glad when this rest day is through. Luckily we only have two more.

As you probably cannot see from tomorrow’s tip sheet, at the ready above, we ride 82 miles from Junction City to Topeka. Topeka is the Capitol of the sunflower state, therefore, the good people of Kansas chose to position said city – in Kansas. Thanks for riding along.

We pedaled out of McPherson with low clouds, cools temps and our first real humidity. The first six miles or so went fine as we grooved into our Monday morning routine. At about seven miles, we were shunted into one lane because they are grinding up the old blacktop, ostensibly to lay down new. We rumbled onto the grindings shortly thereafter and exited this road to perdition at mile 14. Yup, add it up.

Once freed, the next 44 miles fell smoothly beneath our tortured tails.

At mile 61 we rolled into Abilene, boyhood home of our 34th president, Dwight D. Eisenhower, so you don’t have to look that up, like I did. Abilene has the presidential library, the house he grew up in and, this being Kansas, a grain elevator. Which, I was informed, is what I have been looking at, not a silo.

We rolled out of Abilene on old Rt. 40 and the last 20 miles was about as agreeable a ride as we have had. We even experienced a few hills. Who knew? We completed our 87 miles in Junction City, yes Kansas, why do you even ask? Tomorrow is a well deserved rest day. It has been over 770 miles since our last one, and this is number three of five. There are no mountains to climb in Kansas, that I know of, so I will wash my bike and, well, my bike will be clean. Thanks for riding along.

You already know Kansas is flat. But did you know that as part of the Kansas-Nebraska Act, Kansas entered the union in 1861 as a free state? I thought I would throw this in while thinking of something interesting to say about today’s ride. The weather was nice. We had a headwind, but it was manageable at around 10 or 12 mph. We still have standing wheat in the fields.

The fields are still too wet to get the corn in. We have been following torrential rains by about a week. So far this area has matched its yearly total of precipitation. And so far, luckily, we are still a week behind those rains.

I feel like the last two paragraphs have me dancing very close to that whole boring thing that I promised to avoid. So maybe we should talk about chemical plants. They have huge natural gas compression and cracking facilities here.

Still boring huh? Well how about a former farmer straddling a bike in the middle of a road, in the middle of Kansas?

We did have a sag stop at a Dairy Queen this morning in Lyons, but it was closed. All I have left to tell was a race (or the closet thing to one yet) with 10 miles left. Tom G. pulled out, Howard followed, and I chased. It was flat (go figure) and we got rolling pretty well, but the outcome was never in question. Howard, our former surgeon from England, smoothly pedalled along as I ground and grunted and slowly slipped behind. Makes one wonder how we won that war. Tomorrow we spend 87 miles, in Kansas, and will rest in Junction City – Kansas. Thank you for riding along.

A good friend and my first running mentor suffered a heart attack during a 5 mile race this morning. Bad things can happen to nice, fit people. I understand he is doing okay. It is easy to take tomorrow for granted. It is easy to expect to see someone again, whenever. Life’s a blast, so please don’t waste a single day. That is not so easy.

For the first time since Santa Fe, we started out in what promised to be inclement weather. There was a thunderstorm warning for Dodge City and we had lightning and rumbles to our south. When faced with such circumstances, we did the only sensible thing – pedalled fast. It was gray and we were spattered with a few drizzles but the storm stayed south and we slowed down. Actually, it was a nice morning to ride.

As the morning progressed, the sky cleared, the windmills disappeared and silos started popping up. These monsters showed up just about every ten miles or so as we paralled the train tracks. At first, this seemed like overkill until you think, when these were built, 10 miles was a lot farther. The game became, after passing a silo, try to guess how far the next one was. We got pretty good. They stand about 125 feet, and you can see them from at least seven miles, since that was our farthest recorded today. Did I mention Kansas was flat?

Our second stop was in the town of Kinsley, Kansas and yes they too have a claim to fame. Kinsley calls itself, and who’s to say otherwise, that they are Midway U.S.A. When in Kinsley, you are 1,561 miles from New York and 1,561 miles from San Francisco.

This day was so full of sights to see! Not to be outdone by Kinsley, Pawnee Rock, Kansas has, hold on folks, Pawnee Rock. What we found was that Pawnee Rock was just that. A big old rock in the middle of the prairie that the good people of Pawnee Rock have built a viewing platform above. Unlike on the road, this platform allows one to see silos over 20 miles away.

Our last sag was in Garfield, Kansas, a town with a big silo who’s claim to fame escapes me. This left 22 miles to go, and wouldn’t you know, we had a wind shift. It was only 10 or 12 mph, but coming in the last bit, it did seem rather unfair. But inasmuch as life was never meant to be fair, Tom G. and I lined up and put what we had left into a final push into Great Bend, Kansas. Today we crossed over 1,500 miles and have climbed 48,038 feet. And yeah, this afternoon, it felt like it. Tomorrow we have a short, 65 mile ride into McPherson, and yes, McPherson is still in Kansas. Thank you for riding along.

Today was our first full day in Kansas, and so far, all of the unkind things I have heard and said about this state are wrong. Today was as fine a day for riding a bike as could be asked for. We had low 80’s with low humidity and high clouds with high spirits.

The 84 miles from Liberal to Dodge City seemed to fade into the horizon as the slight tailwind eased us over rolling hills amid the vast expanse of open land.

The highlight of the day was the city of Meade, the county seat of, you guessed it, Meade County Kansas. Meade’s claim to fame is The Home of the Famous Dalton Gang Hideout. Said claim is a tunnel leading from their sister’s house to a barn where they could saddle up the ponies and make a getaway. Some question whether or not this or any other tunnel existed during the 18 months the Daltons were robbing (and getting shot) various banks and trains, but you have to admit, it’s a cool idea.

After hanging out at the hideout and feasting on Twinkies and apples with caramel dip, (Paula, this was genius) we continued our marvelous ride. I did mention two things seem to grow in Kansas. The second crop, sprouting up everywhere, is windmills.

There are windmills to the left and windmills to the right. But then, if you have vast open land, with nothing to stop the wind until you hit the Alleghenies, why not take advantage of it. We rolled into Dodge City feeling far better than expected, with hopes that the winds and sky hold at least until we hit Great Bend tomorrow. Thanks for riding along.