Cell phone service and free time have been limited in the last few days, so posting my daily writings promptly has been a challenge as well. The dates are a little messed up, but the stories are still consecutive and pertain to one day each.
Just before getting to bed at the church in Sheridan Lake, the pastor showed up. He came in just as we were all filling bottles in the kitchen and introduced himself as Pastor Virgil. It can be slightly awkward when the church officials show up because so often, they just leave the door unlocked with a note to make the place your home. Having all of my gear strewn about and using the kitchen when he showed up made me feel a bit like I was imposing.
Pastor Virgil was an extremely pleasant and jolly man who spoke with a warm and inviting tone and carried himself with noticeable humility. He encouraged us to enjoy the church and all of it's facilities, which for a tiny town in the middle of the Colorado plains were surprisingly numerous and high quality.
Anyway, the next morning came and based on Pastor Virgil's tip that the town store opened at 7:00, we all decided to aim for that as a departure. I packed my gear and hit the road for the store to find upon arriving that Pastor Virgil was working the counter! It seemed that he was the only person in the town and he was even dressed exactly the same way as the previous evening. His attitude and composure were identical to the first meeting, which made it appear as though he magically manifested himself before me without a break between meetings. It took me by surprise and served to start my day with a little confusion.
With a little Gatorade in my system and a couple Clif bars stashed for later, I got rolling to the next destination. It would be another century day but with fewer towns in between and fewer opportunities to refuel. I'm not adverse to surviving solely on water, but when I get the chance to pick up some cold drinks, I scarcely let it pass me by. It only takes about ten minutes out here for the water to heat up beyond my own body temperature, so it's nice to grab something refreshing. Superheated water helps you survive, but does little to satiate an increased core temperature and a parched mouth.
Most of the day was ordinary by the standards I have come to expect in the plains. Lots of wind, some bumpy stretches, horrible smells wofting across the road, and the unyielding force of the sun were all things I had come to expect and I was not disappointed. I was sure to apply some of the new 100+ SPF sunscreen I had purchased (which is similar to lathering Greek yogurt on your body) to avoid being totally decimated by the sun. I have been doing well against sun burn, but out here I am more cautious due to the lack of shade and clouds. I would soon find that the absence of clouds could come to an abrupt and dramatic end.
With the plains giving way to an endless panoramic view of the sky, it seems unlikely that any cloud activity could creep up without plenty of warning, but it does. Before I knew it, I was gazing heavenward and admiring the enormous billows of mist and ice above. Clouds of all textures and sizes were visable in every direction. As I continued to enjoy the breathtaking display, I noticed that in the East, the clouds began to stretch down to the earth, connecting the prairie and the sky by drapes of rain.
It was not long before I began to experience huge and frigid gusts of air which swept my loaded bike halfway across the road. It felt as though I had been instantaneously teleported to a cold and damp marine climate. I could sense the moisture in the air just like sticking my head in a freezer to search for some ice cream. The air was fresher and sweeter and carried with it the omen of what would soon turn out to be a torrential downpour.
I felt the first drop, but since I could see ahead for miles, I saw that my ultimate destination lay under a clear blue sky. For a few minutes, I pedaled on in hopes that I could outrun the storm before it grew too large to endure. That plan didn't last as long as I hoped. The rain picked up and each drop felt like an ice cube hurling into my skin. Even through my shirt and shorts I could feel the instant chill behind each impact. The droplets must have been the size of oranges and were at intervals relative to their enormity. I would sustain a hit only once every second or two, but each was enough to send shivers down my spine.
For about five miles leading into the storm, there had been an abandoned train sitting idle parallel to the road. It was empty and rusty and had clearly been stationary for some time. It continued on into the horizon as far as the eye could see, so I kept it in my mind as a source of refuge should the storm worsen. As the rain continued to accelerate and the clouds became more threatening, I decided to pull off the road and sit under the train for a while.
I pushed the bike through about twenty feet of brush and locusts and leaned in up against a train car. I then attempted to gain entry into the car, but the metal latch holding the door closed was too solid for me to overcome. With no other options and with my body sustaining a continuous onslaught of cold and heavy rain, I just crawled under the train and sat with my legs crossed on a wooden railroad tie. Naturally, the one spot that I chose happened to be a draining point for the runoff of the train, so I had a steady trickle of water hitting me right on the leg. I was already soaked and didn't feel like it was worth the energy to move, so I stayed there and rode out the storm with my little water trickle keeping me company.
Eventually, the rain stopped and I had a chance to make a fast break. I couldn't be sure whether it would start up again, but the train went on for longer than I could see so I knew I'd be able to use that again if necessary. I had ten more miles to go, and as I have experienced in previous storms, the moments immediately following a big rain are ideal for speedy riding. The air is perfectly still, the temperature is cool, and the traffic is still cleared out. I was able to knock out the next ten miles in about half an hour and I never got another drop along the way. It was very impressive to see the back end of the storm moving away from me, though. Out here, you can really see the weather patterns like they show on the maps. The entire width of the storm is visible and the gaps between showers are as clear as day.
The last few miles from Sugar City to Ordway were just fun. I could still see the amazing procession of clouds and rain in the distance, the sun began to set before me, and I was able to pedal at 25 mph continuously. It was perfect, but the most awesome aspect of all was the sudden visibilty of the Rocky Mountains. As the haze lifted and the clouds to the West began to scatter, the glorious and majestic peaks of the mountain range became delineated against the horizon. That was truly magnificent.
I got to Ordway, picked up some food and drink from the truck stop and began searching the town for my host. A woman named Gillian was known for providing lodging to passing cyclists, so I made my way to her house.
Gillian was not there when I arrived, but a gentleman escorted me to the "bunkhouse", which was a trailer on the property for bikers to use. I was able to use the shower and laundry in the main house and a matress in the trailer. It worked out pretty well.
Location:Ordway, CO
No comments:
Post a Comment