Days 29 and 30 - Western Kansas = Eastern Colorado

I just might

Don't read the following with the impression that Kansas failed me in the end. It did not. But the scenery during the last couple days there, and for the most part, here in Eastern Colorado hasn't exactly been breathtaking. Riders i've met do go on about how boring it is. It's a little hard not to be defensive about some comments that get made on here or facebook about me making sure i smell the roses. Sometimes there are no fucking roses, or anything else to smell for that matter (insert joke about stanky feedlots here _______. Actually do not.)

The scenery ended a couple of days ago. I'm still amazed a couple times per day at how flat it is, how sparse the population is (i mean, today there was a solid 38-mile stretch where i didn't even see a cow), how far the horizon is, how vast and varied the clouds are. The last several days i really have needed my music playing (Speaker, NOT headphones, don't worry) as i've barreled through the plain plains. Funny how the Arctic Monkeys, Kaiser Chiefs, MGMT, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, and Lily Allen's "Fuck You" mix with the scenery. Or not.

Also I've sung my heart out as well. You know how you can get caught singing in the car? Volume cranked up, you lose yourself in the moment and really belt it out until a carful of cooler people roll their eyes at you at the next red light. And then you continue as if nothing had happened if you're feeling particularly bold. Or you... just...trail off... But in WesternKansasEasternColorado no one can hear you scream. I can't listen to my iphone the whole day cuz it saps the battery. So i have to compensate by recalling just a few simple standards that really make use of the rest of my lung capacity that cycling isn't already taking up. I'm amazed at how much I can recall of "Hair" and "A Chorus Line." My thriving musical theatre career died from overdose at high school graduation where i sang our high school's alma mater to a crowd of one thousand or so disinterested parties (save of course my parents and both sets of grandparents. I think Aunt Paula was there too?): "Where Patriots once roamed! And free men tilled the soil! We cherish now our heritage and to it will be loyal! The freedom which they sought! From each and every man! This is our creed at Wayne Hills High and for the entire land!" etc etc. But here on the Great Plains my chops have been reborn! I'm no Adam Lambert. But i'm somebody, god dammit!

Last night i stayed in the cheapest and saddest of hotels: The Trail End Inn, right on Highway 96 in Tribune KS across from the truck stop where this morning i bought a breakfast of an Egg McMuffin-type of thing (NOT an actual McDonald's - i still haven't eaten at one, and they don't have them in the small towns unless they're on the interstate) that Donny would be envious of. Wayne and Anastasia bought The Trail End Inn from pictures on a website (which Anastasia did not show her husband) and moved here from Oregon to run the place. Anastasia told me the this morning that the place has good bones, just needs plastic surgery. It is really ugly (except for the outside which they've painted with a western charm), but i liked it anyway especially since it rained hard and i wasn't out in it.


Today i rode 119 miles leaving Kansas early, crossing into the big CO (i must be getting close to home, since now there are Spanish names of places scattered about) and cycling madly away from storms i could see (and hear) to the north of me. i made great time in part out of fear. Whatever works. The scenery in Eastern CO is much as it was, or was not, in Western Kansas. ... though i must say that not 30 miles over the state line, some of the grasses changed to a greener, bushier type. Again, if i had a way to upload all my pictures, you'd all be able to see what i'm talking about. I'll do that when i get home in July, and if anybody's still interested...

Note the color of the skies

So tomorrow i have a short day to Pueblo CO (the base of the mountains, i guess you could say) where i will switch routes to the Western Express over the Rockies and through Utah and Nevada, leaving the Transamerica Trail which heads north to Wyoming. Grandma said on the phone yesterday that she can't wait until i get to California. Not that she's there to greet me. She'll just be able to stop worrying all the way from New Jersey.