Saturday, July 14th, 2002
Start: Cozad, Nebraska
End: Iowa City, Iowa
495 Miles
In the morning, I check the water in the
battery. It hasn't dropped a millimeter since
Boulder. I'm very glad to see that, since
it means there's no problem with the charging
system of the bike. The battery was simply
old.
We eat breakfast, and grab some tourist pamphlets
in the lobby. One pamphlet tells the history
of Cozad, located purposely on the 100th
meridian between the "arid west and
the moist east", where east meets west.
I'd always thought that the Mississippi was
the divide between east and west....
Another pamphlet tells of the Overton
Trail
along US-30, the route of the pioneers
along
the Platte River, and later the railroads
followed the same route. That might
be interesting,
or it might be Hell.
Breakfast done, we clean up and head out
- eastbound on US-30 rather than the Interstate.
For a change, and simply because we've never
gone this way before.
Sharon talked me into it... The reason
I've
never taken US-30 across Nebraska before
because it would likely take forever
to cross
the plains via two-lane roads, and
I've never
had that much time. I'm negative about
US-30,
but Sharon is curious. And persuasive,
so
we end up riding US-30 from Cozad to
Kearney.
It's not half as bad as I expected. Actually,
it's quite pleasant. It's green, very green.
And it doesn't feel like we're "out
West" anymore, instead it looks almost
like rural Ohio or Indiana. Traffic is light,
and temperatures early in the morning are
just on the cool side of comfortable. To
our right, a busy rail line parallels US-30
and we get to pace more than a couple fast
freight trains.
We pass through several small towns, but
there's something sad about them.... They're
not vibrant like Pemberville (where I live),
instead they seem tired. The peeling paint,
closed buildings and general disrepair suggest
apathy on the part of the residents. The
towns are simply tired; it's hard to say
just how long some of them will continue
to exist at all.
And a strange sight: bicyclists are riding
across Nebraska on US-30 - bicyclists..!
This absolutely amazes me. I thought that
it would take forever to cross Nebraska on
a motorcycle, and here are people pedaling
across the state. Soft luggage, trim bodies,
strong legs, water bottles, and self-contained
- the Long Distance Riders of the pedal-pushing
group.
I chuckle because a long time ago, the writer
John Krakauer wrote an article on whitewater
kayaking in Outdoor magazine, in a question-and-answer
format. One question was "How does whitewater
kayaking compare to sea kayaking?"
His answer: "Whitewater kayaking compares
to sea kayaking the way hang gliding compares
to bicycling across Nebraska." The answer
has stayed with me, and been good for many
grins, because I suspect it's spot-on.
But looking closer, these riders aren't just
in great shape... they're also rather mature.
There must be something about long-distance
travels that requires a bit of maturity -
probably just being able to afford the trip
and the time off. Regardless of the years,
these bicyclists are in incredibly good physical
shape.
It's also been my experience that the slower
you go, the more you see. Sitting still,
studying the intricacies of a single flower,
you can memorize that flower and comprehend
the tendrils and the petals and the stem
dripping milk in an entirely different way
than if you saw a field of dandelions as
you blew by at 70 mph. One way, you see intricacies
and fine detail and symmetry. The other way,
you see splashes of yellow and green, and
then it's gone.
And as I keep thinking about bicycling across
Nebraska, I realize that I would like to
have the time to see the intricacies. That
maybe the mature riders on the bicycles have
the better machine and the better schedule,
and maybe they're feeling sorry for me.
By the time we hit Kearney, I'm thinking
that maybe, just maybe, I'd like to bicycle
across Nebraska myself someday, after retirement,
and see the place up close and slowly. It's
said that "God is in the details..."
Maybe I'd find Him there, if I spent more
time looking carefully.
At Kearney, we get back on the Interstate.
We're not even close to being retired, and
like it or not we don't have all summer.
We're expected back at work Monday.
The day warms up as we motor down I-80
at
a good speed.
And throughout Nebraska, there's construction
on I-80. Lots of construction. Over
and over
again, when we finally seem to be making
good time traffic slows to a crawl
and then
stops. Fans cycle on and off on traffic
around
us, cars in all lanes try to change
lanes
a little at a time. Hard to make a
quick
lane change at .1 mph....
It's hot and we're frustrated... The
vacation
is essentially over, and we want to
be home.
Soon!
Outside Omaha, traffic slows and then simply
stops. Another detour... this time we learn
from a car driver that it's due to a traffic
accident. We decide to eat a late lunch on
the chance the mess will clear up by the
time we finish, and we won't have to detour
onto the two-lane roads again. I don't want
to take two-lane roads through Omaha.
Our late lunch at Cubby's Restaurant (exit
420 west of Omaha) turns out to be the worst
food of the trip. Maybe of the year... We
order, and the waitress returns to tell us
they're out of that. We try again, they're
out of that too. Another try, and we're shot
down again. And again... There's very little
in stock, according to the waitress. Finally
she explains that their refrigerator had
a repair call earlier in the week, and they
haven't been fully re-stocked since.
Sharon asks her to tell us what they do have,
since it seems that would be easier than
running back and forth into the kitchen with
each of our requests. What they do have is
very little. Sharon and I eventually end
up with our 6th or 7th or 8th or 9th choice
or so.
When the waitress brings the check,
I'm tempted
to photograph it - the first 6-8 selections
we made are crossed off, there's little
room
left for the food we actually ate.
I've never
seen a bill so covered in scribbles
in my
life...
Restaurant Review: the food was forgetable,
but the selection and service made quite
an impression on both of us.
Finding the Silver lining to our truckstop
dining? Our accident avoidance plan works
- finishing our late lunch we look out the
window and traffic is normal on eastbound
I-80 again.
On our way out the door, we run into
another
Concours owner gassing up - it's Monty
and
his significant other, we'd met them
in Telluride.
They live in Minnesota, and are trying
to
simply make time - no time to talk
or eat
or hang out. So a quick hello-goodbye
will
do. Funny-odd how you can run into
the same
people several times like that on long
trips.
And then we enter western Iowa. After time
spent in the desert, the green is almost
shocking. Western Iowa is rolling farms,
big farms, and in July everything is very,
very green. And a mild farm smell, of earth
and plants and humidity. The air is slightly
hazy, and it gives the scenery an odd effect
- rolling shapes, green and more green, but
somewhat soft around the edges. Watercolors,
or a soft-focus photograph. Very pleasant,
but I'm almost certain that if I were to
take a photograph nothing special would show
up. Without the heat, the haze, and the subtle
smells - it would be a rather dull photo,
and not reflecting the pleasantries of the
moment. Cameras can lie, under certain conditions.
We make a few stops to rest here and
there,
and decide that Iowa City looks like
a good
place to call it a night. We eat at
a sports
bar / restaurant, find a room, watch
a little
Weather Channel and fall asleep.
Best,
Doug Grosjean
Pemberville, Ohio
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