For weeks before the ride started, I had dreams of my first 200 mile day. The first 200 miles of the route had a net elevation loss of perhaps 2000 feet, and the route went pretty much east through a high prairie with winds that generally prevailed from some flavor of west in the summer. While 2000 feet in 200 miles isn’t much – hardly noticeable in fact – it was one more tiny piece of advantage that I hoped would help us make that double-century mark.
But alas, as the day neared when we would begin our ride, the winds shifted to the east as a cold front settled in on top of the area. While this brought welcome cooler temperatures, it also brought a demon east wind that would make 200 miles into a very long (if even attainable) day.
We began in Trinidad, Colorado on July 9. Hoping to roll out of the B&B where we spent the night at something like 5:15, we were faced with our first flat of the trip before we even rolled our bikes out of the house. We quickly changed the flat, took a couple of perfunctory pictures together before we left, and headed east out of town.
The first couple of hours were quite nice, with very cool temperatures and a tiny little movement of air from the west. US160 fulfilled its promise of very low traffic volume, as we rode side by side, falling into single file only a couple of times as cars passed. We were also dropping in elevation, which you could feel slightly as well.
Somewhere in the second hour, the first hints of contrary air movement started to make itself felt on our face and in our ears. Slowly, the volume of air movement increased until you could clearly call it a headwind, coming directly into our right ear. By the time we were into our third hour and began 50 miles or so of gentle climbing, we had a steady 15 – 20 mph quartering headwind out of the SE. This wind stayed with us for the next several days, varying only slightly as we continued to move east at a pace that was definitely slower than we had hoped.
For the first 75 miles of this route – from Trinidad to Kim – there are no services at all. Not a C-Store of any kind, and few ranch-houses close to the road that you could use for water. In our case, we brought about 100 oz of water apiece over this section, and it turned out to be plenty. However, the high that day only reached 86. I can imagine that if the high would have been a more seasonable 100 or so, our 100 oz apiece may have left us a bit dry before we reached Kim. If I had it to do again, I’d carry a bit more water I think.
The only crash of the trip occurred early on that first morning as well. I’d like to make up some fun and elaborate story about a spectacular crash that left my leg with a little road rash, but Dave knows the true story and would rat me out I’m sure. Fact is that the first time I stopped the bike to, well, let’s say take pictures, it simply fell over, with me still clipped on one side. You become accustomed to the feel and the weight of a bike when you ride it a lot. You know how it leans against your leg when you stop, and you can predict what it’s going to do while you stand over it. Add 30 pounds of water and stuff, and it acts differently. So there I was, standing over my bike, uh, taking pictures lets say, with only one foot unclipped, and shazam – over the bike goes with me attached. Nothing pretty, elegant, or exciting about it – just plain clumsy.
With that little acrobatic out of the way, and our first flat tire behind us, we pushed on through a slightly evil wind, enjoying still the low light and the coolness of the high prairie, as well as the distant peaks to our right as they slowly disappeared behind us.
On some maps, there’s a little spot called Ward’s Corner that shows up along US160 about halfway between Trinidad and Kim. Most likely, back when travel along the roads went at a much more civilized pace, there was actually some sort of town here. Now, all that remains is a single structure that appears to be inhabited. Signs in the window indicated that there might be times when someone was there and business occurs, but it wasn’t open when we came spinning past. It’s not really a café – I suspect it’s a gallery of sorts, though a person might find a cup of coffee or something if it were open – I’m just not sure. We didn’t stop – it looked too much like a private residence of some sort.
But we did pick up a friend who traveled with us for a few miles.
Dave was riding a bit ahead of me. (Did I mention that this was generally the case – something that I got used to on this ride?) I watched as a big black dog galloped out from the place that might be a business, cast his head up to catch Dave’s scent as he rolled past just a couple of feet away, then stopped in the middle of the highway and watched Dave riding along. Then he heard me coming, and turned to watch me pass, sniffing at me as I passed. We must have passed some sort of test, because the big ‘ol dog decided that we and he were kindred spirits, and he wanted to run with us for a while. So he did – for several miles. Remember that there was essentially no traffic on the road, and we had a nice enough headwind at that point that we were only rolling along at 11 or 12 mph.
Here we were, 2 guys on bikes and a big black dog, loping along down the middle of the highway together. The speed we were traveling was a perfect loping pace for the dog. He had a look of pure joy on his face as he galloped along beside us, moving easily from one side of the road to the other, sometimes running in the ditch on one side, then bounding up across the road and over to the other side. He had found a pack to run with, and the pack was out running.
We worried about our friend, and just how long he might run with us. We worried that a car would come along eventually, and would be know to get out of the way? We worried a bit about him, but we also shared in his joy as we all made our way down the road as a new-formed pack. One of us had his tongue hanging out over the side of his lower jaw as he ran, soaking in every little molecule of this wonderful moment when we came together as a pack. I don’t remember which one of us it was…
Eventually, the wind shifted a bit for a few minutes, so it was only a cross wind and not quartering to us, and maybe we had a little downhill too. I don’t remember exactly, but I do remember that our speed started to pick up a bit. I was surprised as our friend hung with us for quite a while at 15 or 17 mph, but eventually he decided that this was just faster than he wanted to run on a summer day. I felt sad as I turned and watched him watch us roll away from him and his little universe there along the lonely highway.
It was sometime before the 75 mile mark and Kim that I’m sure we both realized that our 200 mile day was just not going to happen today. I think we both still help out hopes for a 175 mile day to Johnson City, but we also knew that we wouldn’t be able to make that call until we approached the 125 mile point of no return in Springfield, CO. By the time we turned north and headed into Kim, we were more than ready for our first stop of the day.
The Kim Outpost in Kim is the picture of an old Mercantile. Over on one half of the store is what appears to be the town library, including videos to borrow. You can buy limited groceries, and they’ll fix you whatever sort of sandwich you might want. Playing on the TV is live coverage of the livestock auction. Now, if you think that live coverage of a livestock auction would be the definition of boring, you wouldn’t be able to prove it by the local ranchers who would watch it for a few minutes when they came in, and then banter back and forth a bit about whether the prices were good or bad, and how could you possible make money with a $28 spread?
We made friends with some bikers (the kind that make noise and go fast when you twist the grip) out in front, and participated in some good-natured jabbing about the sanity of anyone riding their bicycles across this kind of desolate country. We asked them to throw us a rope when they passed us and help us along. A good time was has by all, and we headed on up the road. When the bikers passed us in 10 or 15 minutes, they whopped and hollered just a little, and gave us smiles and waves.
I’ve got to say that over the 8 days of this trip, it was neat to see the kindred spirit kindle with the bikers that we passed and that we met. I think they saw us as little brothers of sorts, and almost always gave us that dropped-hand wave that they give each other. Once, a guy that we’d met at a truck stop back the road slowed down and chided and chatted for a few seconds while we rode side-by-side, but then he took off before I could grab the back of his seat…
In eastern Colorado – about 20 miles or so west of Springfield – is a little dot on the map called Pritchett. It’s an old prairie town that was obviously wiped out in the 30’s when most of the little prairie towns were wiped out. Based on what I could see ahead of time, I didn’t expect to find anything there in Pritchett. So as we were rolling through what appeared to be the old deserted downtown square, I was surprised when Dave pulled over at a storefront. There was one old truck in front of the building, but nothing else anywhere downtown. Dave said that it looked like they had ice cream, so I pulled in, tied up to the hitching post, and headed in.
Inside Kathi fixed us some ice cream, and we sat and chatted with her and her husband Steve for quite a while about their diner and their business. They’re new to the area, and have been pleasantly surprised by the friendly reception that they’ve gotten in town, and how well the local folks support their diner. They open for breakfast and lunch, then on Friday nights they open for dinner. Sitting at the table, chatting with Steve and Kathi and soaking in the AC while eating a nice dish of ice cream, I sincerely hoped that they would be successful in the long run here in this little town.
I’m not sure what it is that draws some folks to played-out old towns like Pritchett, and makes them want to make a go of it. If you sit down with a pencil and a piece of paper, I just can’t imagine that you could make a viable business plan that would justify pulling up roots and moving yourself out onto the desolate high plains. But in the case of Steve and Kathi Service, that’s just exactly what they’ve done. They raised a family on traditional jobs in more traditional cities, then decided it was time to pick up and start over again in the tiny little town of Pritchett, Colorado. They have a little diner called the Pritchett Café, and Kathi sells antiques and other little stuff in the shop next door called the Blue Willow Trading Company. They also own an old house in town that they’re renovating and will run as a B&B in the near future.
I admire what Steve and Kathi have done. I think that our country and our culture would be greatly improved if more of us had the courage and the vision to make the kind of move that they’ve made. But I have to say that I just can’t make sense of it. I wish that I could. In many ways, their spirit is exactly the spirit that brought the first white folks into that town over 100 years ago. There was no sense to it back then either, but folks were willing to try and make a go of it.
There’s an allure that seems to hide in the high prairie. Not everyone hears it I think, but for those who do hear it, it’s a powerful song. There’s no logical reason to expect success out there in the desolation and the wind, but there’s a powerful draw that some folks simply can’t resist. I know that song, and I feel that draw – I think it’s part of what drew us to this ride in the first place. I don’t yet know how to wrap words around this allure that give it adequate description, but I know that I feel it, and I recognize it in others now and then – folks like Steve and Kathi Service.
I sincerely hope that the local folks will continue to support a local diner, and I sincerely hope that enough folks will be willing to spend a couple nights at a B&B in Pritchett that they can make money at that venture as well. Steve and Kathi seem to be good, hard-working folks who will add value to their community, and my fondest hopes for success go out their way.
Making our way into the town of Springfield, Colorado after 125 miles of riding – mostly with a quartering headwind – Dave and I are both pretty beat up. While the mind would love to go on another 50 miles, the body is just plain tired. Once we agree that we’ll stop for the night, I can almost feel a warm shower to wash the grime off, I can almost taste a good dinner, and I’ really looking forward to some serious rest in a good bed. We ride up into town, and both see a little downtown hotel that looks really nice. Unfortunately the “No Vacancy†light is on, so we keep riding to the north end of town where a couple of motels are. We stop at the first one, and are informed that not only are they booked, but every motel in town probably is, due to a rodeo and several other activities going on in town over the weekend. The guy at the desk calls the other motels, and confirms no availability.
Bummer. Double bummer really. Now I’ve let myself start looking forward to a shower, food, and time out of the saddle, and I’m told that I need to keep riding for another 3 or 4 hours. Ugg and double ugg.
So we buck up and get back on the bikes. As we’re riding back through downtown, I say to Dave, “Let’s just stop in the downtown hotel and see if maybe they’ve had a cancellationâ€. Dave’s thinking the same thing. So we pull up to the old hitching post (really) at the Stage Stop Hotel in downtown Springfield, and dismount once again – with much less vigor than earlier in the day. We drag ourselves up the steps and open the front door. “Hiâ€, we start up, “we know you say you don’t have any vacancy, but we were wondering if you…â€
Cherry Gonser – the owner – smiled and cut us off before we could finish. “I’ve got a room with 2 beds, and it’s waiting for youâ€.
The weight of the world lifts from my shoulders, and I sit down in the shade of the front porch while Dave signs us in. When he’s done, we sit there on that front porch, soaking in how good it feels to have a place to stop for the night. It’ss the first of many very sweet moments on our ride, and I want to savor every little morsel of it.
We have a nice evening in Springfield, enjoy a decent steak for supper, and start our habit of watching the weather channel to see what the winds are supposed to do the following day. Cherry had said to Dave that she thought that G-d had brought us together. Dave figures that she might just be really picky about who she rents to, and keeps the No Vacancy sign on, sizing up potential tenants before deciding to rent them a room. It could also be that she really did just get a cancellation before we walked in the door.
It doesn’t much matter to me either way – I find tremendous joy in our ability to stop for the night, relax and clean up, enjoy a great dinner for the night, and allow our bodies to recover for the next day. If you believe that G-d’s hand is present in everything that happens, then one way or another Her hand helped us find lodging that night. If you don’t believe this happens, then maybe it’s as simple as dumb luck, and the fact that Cherry decided Dave and I looked like upstanding enough citizens that she was willing to rent to us.
Go figure.
