Since Oakley and I have descended from the Rocky Mountains we have been drowning in wind. It has been in the mid 90’s everyday, and the wind has been blowing a sustained 20 or more knots with gusts up to 50.
It has been hard to catch our breath as we slog across the plains. Dirt and dust blow up from the overcultivated fields and feed lots, and a haze of yellow grit has formed over the land, reducing visibility.
This grit burns our eyes, gets in our ears, parches our throats and covers our skin with a coat of grime. I have a sneaking suspicion that it is heavily laden with pesticides.
Our tent shudders and flaps in the wind all night long and does not lend itself to a solid night’s sleep. We have been sleeping in city parks every night in towns that feel ghostly because everyone else is hiding inside.
Oakley looks like he has a drug problem. His eyes have become squinty and red, and he refuses to wear his sunglasses. His bottom lip is split and swollen, and he is refusing to wear sunscreen on it. Why, you might ask? Because I asked him to. This brings me to my second vexation about the wind. It gets inside you. It tunnels in your ears and up your nose and wreaks havoc on your brain and your spirit.
Everyday that the wind blows, Oakley and I get a little more on each other’s nerves. I am annoying. I speak annoyingly, chew annoyingly and, according to Oakley, I have suddenly become deaf. Oakley is also annoying. He talks too much, steps on the tent and has bad manners. He is 100% 16 years old, which is annoying unto itself. I know this is just the wind working its wicked ways and, luckily, Oakley knows it too.
In many ways this is a more difficult challenge than the passes we have ascended. This is grueling, solitary, lacks glory and is boring. But, when I look up and see Oaks slowly, but methodically, plugging along through the wind and heat, alone in his thoughts hour after hour because the wind makes it too hard to talk, I am sure there is good in this stage, that this too is important.
We have taken to retreating to town libraries every afternoon and reading for hours. We fantasize about ice tea constantly. We seek out mom and pop movie theaters, and we go for walks when the evenings cool. And at least once a day we forgive each other for our snappy behavior and acknowledge that we are in this together.
The wind is supposed to quiet tomorrow, and I am hoping to be able to look out upon these beautiful plains without squinting. To absorb the incredibly wide expanse of land that is far larger and flatter than I have ever comprehended before.
Yesterday, I overheard a local woman in Scott City, Kansas, say as she blew into the library, “If there is one woman in Kansas who doesn’t use hairspray, I don’t know her! It is the only way to survive!” Maybe if the wind doesn’t die down we will try that next. It can’t hurt.
Post script- The wind has died down. Kansas is lovely after all.
Oakley’s Perspective-Week 8
This week we have been biking though the high plains of Colorado and Kansas. The landscape has gone from dry to really humid and we are surrounded by four kinds of crops, corn, milo (which is for feeding cows), soy beans and sunflowers. A day or two ago we passed by a bunch of feeding yards with tons and tons of cattle. The feeding yards are not the beautiful thing about Kansas.
When we were getting close to Alexander, Kansas, I got another flat. We stopped at a little rest area and tried to replace it when we realized that all of our spare tubes were popped (new out of the box), and we had to stay the night at the little rest area just off the highway. The next morning we had to hitch hike to the nearest big town to get my bike fixed. It turns out that my bike had a lot of problems. The sprocket was loose, one wheel was untrue, a brake pad was falling off and the gear shift cable was breaking. It was lucky I had that flat.
As soon as we passed this point in Kansas the landscape change for the hundredth time. It was the same corn, milo, soybeans and sunflowers except it was a lot greener and not dry.
We had gone off route to get the town with the bike shop, and we had to get back on route. This took a while. We took a long, back country road called Rattlesnake Alley. It is 58 miles long with no houses or shops. We ran out of water on the way. I was miserable. Finally, we came to a house, and we asked the nice people if they could give us some water. They gave us six bottles of ice cold water that they save for bikers.
When we got to a town that night we were exhausted and fell into our hot sweaty sleeping bags, which, I have to say, is not the most pleasant thing at all.
You have had so many challenges. I feel thirsty just reading this one, and I am very thankful you had the flat. I am also thankful you are together in this!
You guys are amazing.
So many bloggers only tell about the great parts of their journey’s. It is refreshing to read your tales of the true difficulties that are a part of cycling across America.. Bike on, Bike Mum….
Harness that wind! You do not mention the direction of the wind??? Should be pushing you based on prevailing winds. May the wind be at your back!
Thanks for posting, you guys. Your blog is often the highlight of my week.
Oakley (actually Leah, too),
You’re building a library of experiences. Later, when you think something is hard and you can’t stand it, you can look back and remember that you made it through the wind and dust of Kansas.
Leah,
Hopefully, you two have avoided major heat by going this late in the season. And wind helps in that respect. Just think how unpleasant the tent would be in hot, humid, dead air!
Thank you for your blog, and also Oakley’s perspective. You are painting the truth about the ride and the mental and physical endurance it takes to trudge on day after day. I look forward to my cross country trip.
Hang in there! It’s great to hear that you’re able to call a truce with the frustrations at least once a day. The conditions sound like you need to be especially tough so you don’t get worn down. Embracing the suffering works but only for so long. I love using public libraries for breaks, too. Keep up the great posts!
Keep going guys! You are inspiring!
Wow! What an adventure and a lesson in perseverance. You are both an inspiration and I wish I had the courage to do what you are doing. Thank you for sharing your adventures and ride on. We are all routing for you.
I’m so impressed by you two. I love reading your blogs, and yes- May the wind be forever at your backs!
What a journey! What a way to see the country. You guys rock. Jim
Sent from The common ground fair
You two are amazing! Thank you for sharing your experience!
If you are just past Scott City, you are approaching my neck of the plains. It will soon get greener and slightly less desolate. It seems flat because you are riding from west to east. If you rode north-south you would quickly find that KS is a lot more hilly than you think, because all the old river beds run east-west and make for some deep valleys.
Your description of the relentless wind brings to mind the short story “The Wind” from Ray Bradbury’s anthology The October Country. Nice work!
Tim, shouldn’t the winds be pushing them eastward?
I have just had two weeks of headwind going across Europe….I understand your plight, and my heart goes out to the two of you.
Am enjoying your trip along the way. Ohio has lots of sweet tea if you ever swing by the mid section from Indiana. Although most take the northern route. Enjoy your adventure! Proud of you both!
I just saw your post in a Facebook group, followed the link and caught up with the last eight weeks sitting at my desk when I should be working.
This doesn’t make much sense as we’ve never met, but I’m going to say it anyway: I’m really proud of you. Happy trails!
You should ride Kansas at night. Obviously it is a lot cooler, less wind but the most special thing we found was the fireflies. The stars come down to the horizon but then the fireflies take over and they come right to the edge of the road so it looks like the stars reach all around you and come to your feet. It was magical!