Eads, CO to Tribune, KS

59 miles. The first 28 miles to Sheridan Lake were very hard. The wind chill was in the low 30s when we pulled out of Eads and it didn't seem to warm up much until the afternoon. And there was a quartering wind out of the northeast, so it was very close to a head wind. By the time we struggled into Sheridan Lake we were very tired and discouraged (more about the psychological aspects of long-distance bike touring in a later blog). I seriously thought that we might need to try to flag down a farmer or trucker to give us a lift the remaining 30 miles to Tribune.

Fortunately Sheridan Lake* has a new convenience store/sub shop (adjacent to the auto parts store), the only retail businesses for nearly 60 miles. The owner/clerk was a very friendly young lady who made us fresh sandwiches and hot coffee. She told us that they see a lot of cross-country cyclists in the summer months, most of whom sheepishly admit to 'cheating' by having someone in a vehicle "sag" them (i.e., follow along with them carrying their stuff, giving them a ride when they are tired, etc.)
Duh, no wonder this seems so hard!

*Sheridan Lake is named after the civil war general who supposedly went fishing there once, which is hard to believe since the lake itself is about the size of a typical midwestern farm pond.

The lunch stop re-energized us and the weather improved to the point that we actually enjoyed most of the remaining ride into Tribune. We had already resolved however to take a rest day there, which turned out to be a good idea for other reasons, including: (1) the weather forecast for Tuesday was not good; (2) Tribune is a very nice town; and (3) they have beer here.

While we were stopped for a break near the Kansas border a photographer pulled up to take our picture. He claimed to be an honest-to-God tornado chaser and was very excited as he said he had yesterday photographed the only tornados in the country (don't worry, Mom, they were in Oklahoma). He thought we were foolish for riding alone through the central plains during tornado season, which we thought was a strange comment coming from someone who intentionally tries to FIND tornados.

As we were nearing Tribune a truck coming the other direction went past us smelling like rotting cheese. As the truck blew past us, it swept a trail of dirt and God knows what else over us. I felt something solid fly into my mouth. Despite immediately spitting it out, I spent the next half an hour trying to rinse the disgusting taste away. I have followed bugs before while riding, but this experience was a whole new level of gross.