Breakfast, sort of…

DODGE CITY', Kans. – It’s still about 45 minutes before sunrise and the weather radar makes it obvious that I’ll be in my rain suit much of today.

I’m not about to ride in the rain in the dark, especially when there are flash flood warnings for areas of Kansas ahead of me.

So I’m hanging out in the Comfort Inn breakfast area. There were eight people in here when I arrived, several of them from a restaurant equipment company.

I chose a small bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee, but may take a second pass at the somewhat limited buffet.

I returned from dinner last night to find I couldn’t get into my room. I swiped the card key and pushed the door open, but it hung up on the security bar lock. Apparently, the bar had swung forward when I closed the door about an hour earlier. It’s designed to be secure against probing fingers, so I headed to the front desk for help.

The clerk said this happens occasionally and fetched a special two-pronged tool that slips through a barely opened door to push the bar aside. Thus equipped, he walked down to my room with me and, voila, problem solved.

Did I mention I hate riding in the rain and won’t do it in the dark?

Getting out of Dodge

DODGE CITY, Kans. – I’ve waited all my life to use that headline.

It’s still dark. I’ve showered and dressed. I’m sipping coffee and checking the weather and getting ready to pack and load.

But it may be prudent to wait awhile because a big ass cluster of storms swept through here early this morning and is now between me and Wichita, where I plan to pick up the Interstate south to Tulsa.

I think I’ll avail myself of the Comfort Inn’s free continental and watch FOX News for a bit before I saddle up and head east.

Dodge City, Kansas

DODGE CITY, Kans. – I don’t have much to show for my 7 hours and 44 minutes in motion.

I only covered 397.1 miles today, calling it quits at Dodge City, Kans. In my defense, I offer that pressing on to Wichita would have meant riding in the dark and maybe rain. Besides, it became increasingly hot from Canon City, Colo. on, peaking somewhere in the high 90s with no cloud cover.

There is a Loaf ‘n Jug convenience store/gas station in downtown Lamar, Colo. where Rich Nathan nearly put his fist through the glass of a stupidly programmed gas pump when we stopped there in 100+ degree heat on our U.S. 50 tour in July 2001. I recognized it, but was in the wrong lane to pull over and get a photo.

I gassed at the Sinclair station in Fairplay, again in LaJunta, Colo. and a last time at a pay-first-inside crappy Quicker Mart at Garden City, Kans. That’s where I made the decision to end my day about 48 miles down the road at Dodge City. I scanned the possibilities listed in my Garmin GPS and settled on the Comfort Inn on Wyatt Earp Boulevard.

The room was more than I wanted to pay, but with a more expensive motel comes a better location and amenities like a luggage cart. I had the use of one at a Comfort Inn in Alabama on the way home from Daytona earlier this year and love the convenience of being able to schlep all of my stuff – saddlebags, tank bag, tail bag, helmet, jacket, etc. to the room in one trip.

Wyatt Earp Boulevard is being widened, so it was a little tricky figuring out how to access the motel.

I passed a series of cattle feed lots on the way in to town, the biggest being the Ingalls Feed Yard, an enormous complex of pens full of cattle. The place presumably has a capacity of 36,000 head of cattle and stinks to high Heaven. I was glad to have a favorable wind as I rode past.

Nevertheless, Dodge City reeks of cow shit, a situation aggravated by the passage of hundreds of cattle trucks, east and west along Wyatt Earp Boulevard at all hours of the day and night.

I rode down the street to Pizza Hut for dinner. I mostly hate Pizza Hut, but I was hungry and tired and didn't see anything else that looked edible,

When I got back, my preferred parking spot by the back door was taken, so I parked my bike next to a couple of Harleys and put the cable lock on the front wheel.

My plan is to go to bed early and get on the road early to cover as many miles as possible, Garmin says I’m a little less than 12 hours from home, I may go for it, but probably not. No point in beating myself to death just to avoid another night on the road.

Almost ready to roll

ALMA, Colo. – I’m mostly packed and having a cup of coffee while I watch Denver morning TV news and wait for the temperature to rise from the present 41 degrees.

My plan is to ride down to Colorado Springs, take I-25 down to Pueblo, and catch U.S. 50 east across eastern Colorado and into Kansas.

If all goes well, I hope to get as far east as Wichita tonight.

It’s been a great week and Tim and Linda are gracious hosts.

Keep an eye out for Penny

ALMA, Colo. – This poster was tacked to the historical marker at the summit of Mosquito Pass and I saw it in several store fronts down in Leadville.

I hope Penny makes it home.

Lunch at the saloon

ALMA, Colo. – I thought about going for a ride this morning, but by the time I got motivated, the clouds were building and it looked like a sure thing that there was rain in our future.

So we settled on a short drive in the Jeep down to the South Park Saloon for lunch.

We did our level best to ignore one of the waitresses’ three young children shrieking, stomping around and playing on top of the pool table along with the owner’s penchant for propping the front door open to let the cold air fill the place.

I had my South Park Saloon favorite – the bleu cheese burger and a Fat Tire beer.

Labor Day morning report

ALMA, Colo. – The Baloughs enjoy feeding the birds and squirrels on their deck and there’s usually a lot of critter traffic, especially in the mornings.

I used the video feature on my Olympus Stylus 850SW to see how close I could get to this guy before he decided I was too deep into his personal space.

Not a road for sissies

ALMA, Colo. – Tim took us for a four-wheeling adventure this afternoon as we bounced and lurched our way up and over Mosquito Pass.

Colorado mountain pass roads come in a variety of flavors, ranging from I-70 over Vail Pass to two-lane paved Monarch Pass to semi-rugged Weston Pass to insanely rough, 4-wheel-drive-only single lane tracks like Mosquito Pass.

Tim has done Mosquito Pass before, but it was a new experience for me. Considering that high places and sheer drop-offs creep me out, it was a bit scary at times, especially when the cliff was on my side of the Jeep.

I shot about a minute of video, since still photos can’t possibly convey the way you get thrown around as the Jeep negotiates big rocks and ruts.

We paused at the summit for photos and to admire the view of Leadville miles below us.

Heading down the far side, with a very scary sheer drop-off on the passenger side, we found ourselves behind a slow-moving pickup truck. Presently, the truck stopped and the woman passenger got out. The driver waited a moment and then continued down the pass.

We drove up to where she was standing and learned she was so freaked out by the view over the abyss that she made her husband let her out to walk down. Unfortunately, her fashionable shoes were hardly up to a hike down Mosquito Pass.

We offered to let her ride on the driver’s side in the back seat, so she wouldn’t have to look over the edge, but she declined. We noticed that her husband had stopped a short distance down the road and she finally walked down and climbed in.

Her husband pulled to the left and let us pass, since he obviously planned to go slowly to minimize her terror.

We picked our way on down to Leadville and went to the Golden Burro for a late lunch. The pickup truck couple came in right after us and the wife seemed to have regained her composure and her sense of humor.

We celebrated with Golden Burro Margaritas made with Grand Marnier – tasty and strong, a dangerous combination, so we only had one each. Dessert was a spectacular Kentucky bourbon pecan pie with vanilla ice cream.

Earlier, Tim and Linda took me over to see the new home of Indianapolis BMW Club friends Webb Bernhardt and Cindy Fort. The house is gorgeous and the setting is magnificent, especially since the aspen trees are wearing their autumn gold.

Tim and Linda affixed a “Mosquito Crossing” sign to a post by the garage door to welcome Webb and Cindy the next time they come out from Indy.

We also explored the ruins of a long-abandoned smelter that most likely was used to process silver from nearby mines.

We stopped at the Walmart in Frisco on the way home to pick up some groceries and some Super Glue that I’ll use to repair a broken internal strap fastener in my left saddlebag.

And, no, we didn’t come back over Mosquito Pass. We took the faster', longer route up to I-70, east to Frisco and south to Chateau Balough.

Getting by with less oxygen

ALMA, Colo. – I did some calculating this morning to get a handle on how much oxygen I’m missing here at Chateau Balough.

I found a useful chart at HigherPeak.com and did some interpolation to get more precise numbers for my specific situation.

When I take a breath at my Arkansas home at 330 feet above sea level, it contains 20.6 percent oxygen. However, that same breath up here takes in only 13.88 percent oxygen. That’s a 32.6 percent reduction and believe me, I can tell the difference. It doesn’t take much exertion to have me huffing and puffing.

(Take a breath on the summit of Mount Everest and you’ll only get 6.8 percent oxygen.)

While I’m having a great time up here among the clouds, I know I’ll be a lot more physically comfortable when I get down out of the mountains.

Over the pass to garage sales in paradise

ALMA, Colo. – This is Placer Valley between the town of Alma and Hoosier Pass, looking south from the pass. Chateau Balough, where I’m composing this, is on the mountainside to the right.

And this is the view from the deck at Chateau Balough, looking back north toward Hoosier Pass.

Equipped with a printout of the list of garage sales from the local paper and my GPS, with which to find said garage sales, we drove over the pass – paused to shoot some panoramic pics – and cruised on down to Breckenridge.

Tim got a killer deal on some computer equipment and we looked at a lot of junk, but enjoyed the hunt.

During the course of our adventure, we found ourselves behind an SUV at a stoplight with this sticker. As one who dwells at 330 feet above sea level, I tried not to take offense.

We stopped at Arby’s in Silverthorne for lunch and while perusing the Summit Daily News, I noticed this ad – something you don’t see in Arkansas.

I wonder if I can get a prescription for the allergies that are dogging me. Probably not. I suspect you have to be a Colorado resident to qualify.

We hit a few more unproductive garage sales and stopped at City Market in Breckenridge where Linda picked up some groceries for tonight’s dinner.

Tim and I waited in the Jeep and amused ourselves watching a woman try to stuff a huge bunch of big green and white helium-filled balloons into the back of her Subaru Outback. I suppose the gallant thing would have been to offer our assistance, especially when the wind threatened to send her dozen or so balloons skyward. But an older woman came by and helped her wrestle the balloons through the tailgate.

Back at the Chalet, we discovered we were down to three beers, so Tim volunteered to make a beer run while I blogged. What a host!

I guess I could turn on the heated seat…

ALMA, Colo. – There was ice on my bike seat this morning, something I haven’t seen in a long time.

We drove over to Fairplay for breakfast at the Brown Burro where I had the obligatory huevos rancheros. The restaurant has a wall map that invites visitors to stick map pins in to mark their hometowns.

Naturally, I put a pin roughly between Goobertown and Buck Snort to document my presence.

On the way back, we hit a couple of garage sales where Linda scored a 20x-60x spotting scope for $7 and Tim got a stand-alone DVD drive for $10.

I tried my level best to talk him into buying a cool old weathervane topped by a horse-drawn fire wagon, but to no avail.

We’re planning our next move, which will likely involve more garage sales. Since I’m on a tightly packed bike, that makes it unlikely that I’ll go on a big garage sale spending spree.

An afternoon ride around South Park

ALMA, Colo. – We’re back from our 100-mile loop of South Park – U.S. 285 to Jefferson, down Taryall Road to the reservoir and beyond on horrible potholed, sand-strewn pavement.

It got better when we picked up U.S. 24 back west to Wilkerson Pass where we stopped for water and cookies thanks to the Veterans of Foreign Wars. I also made the acquaintance of a couple of miniature Australian shepherds. Aussies are everywhere.

We suppressed the urge to make a bullet run down U.S. 24 to Hartsel – good thing, since we passed a Park County sheriff’s deputy who had pulled over a speeder – and stopped for lunch at Dorothy’s Tamales in Hartsel. Clouds were gathering in the west as we went into the restaurant, hoping the rain would blow through while we ate. Turns out it was stuck between U.S. 285 and Colo. 9. Tim had nachos and I had the huge shredded beef burrito with green chilies. I only ate about 55 percent before I lost momentum.

I pulled on my rainsuit – Tim’s jacket and pants are already waterproof – and we headed home via Colo. 9. We rode through about 10-15 miles of light to medium rain before we got back to Fairplay and then on home to Chateau Balough.

Now it’s blogging and beer as the rain patters on the roof.

Laundry day

ALMA, Colo. – When you live out of saddlebags, you run out of clean clothes fast.

So I’m doing laundry this morning while we wait for the temperature to climb out of the low 50s.

I was chagrined to see my mint green Columbia shirt had developed a severe case of ring around the collar, so I treated it with Shout and am hoping for the best.

Tilt!

ALMA, Colo. – I am not a good passenger, especially in the mountains.

Tim chauffeured me around on a shopping trip yesterday and also handled the driving chores last evening when we went down to Buena Vista for dinner.

And I got a little twitchy in the curves, even though I trust Tim’s driving implicitly.

Coming over Hoosier Pass yesterday, I noticed the centrifugal force in the corners was pushing the tilt gauge to 30 degrees. No big deal, but it felt like a deal of some kind.

Thursday evening report

ALMA, Colo. – I’m too sleepy from a 12 ounce filet mignon and baked potato to write anything coherent.

We drove down to Buena Vista to Quincy’s Steak House for dinner. Afterward, we drove around town and noticed Buena Vista is overrun with deer. They’re all over the residential neighborhoods and take little or no notice of us humans.

There was rain over the mountains as we drove down U.S. 285, but none of it fell on us.

Earlier today, we stopped by the feed store for bird food where I made the acquaintance of a couple of Australian shepherds, one of whom looks a lot like Pete. He was shy like Pete and his owner said he’s “a mama’s boy,” just like Pete.

Thursday morning report

ALMA, Colo. – It’s another sunny morning in the High Country, although the skies have an unnatural haze from the wildfires on the Western Slope and beyond.

The Stellar’s jays are ravaging the bird feeders on the deck, only to be muscled aside now and then by the squirrels.

We haven’t solidified a plan for the day beyond driving down to Buena Vista for steak this evening. I need to do some shopping for some kind of lightweight microfleece pullover to keep me warm while I’m just walking around. My only alternative is to wear my Gerbings heated jacket and carry around a 12 volt battery, but then that’s not really an option. So I guess that means a trip over Hoosier Pass to the shopping choices in Breckenridge, Frisco and Silverthorne. We also need a cable to let us play my iPod video content on the Baloughs’ new widescreen TV.

My body has noticed that I’m far, far above my normal home elevation of 330 feet above sea level and in a different ecosystem:

• My nasal passages have dried out and the nosebleeds have started.
• I had an altitude headache last night.
• My allergies have me sneezing and sniffling.
• I feel like I’m full of air.
• My lower lip is chapped, peeling and painful despite liberal applications of Cherry Chapstick.

That said, I’m enjoying the scenery and the hospitality.

Hoosier, as in Hoosier Pass

ALMA, Colo. – We made a beer run to the Hoosier Daddy Liquor store down in Alma and picked up an 18-pack of Budweiser.

The Digiorno pizza is in the oven and we’re settled in for the evening.

St. Francis to Alma

ALMA, Colo. – I left St. Francis about 9 a.m. CDT in thick fog with my emergency flashers on to keep from being run over.

I crossed the border into Colorado about 15 miles later and found myself on a heavily pot-holed highway – big, deep, nasty potholes, the kind that can bend a front wheel rim if you hit one at speed. I crept along in the fog, swerving to miss potholes every 20 feet or so, for another 10 miles where the pavement improved and I suddenly broke out of the fog and into bright sunlight.

Before I left, I dropped in at the motel office for a free cup of coffee and a chat with Chrissy Cook, who with her husband Terrance, owns the place.

The Cooks met in college, did a stint in the Navy together and then came home to Chrissy’s hometown of St. Francis. They bought the motel about four years ago and are in the process of resurrecting it from its former dilapidated state.

Discussing my route from St. Francis to Byers, I lamented that the cafe in Cope that used to serve fabulous pies, is closed.

Chrissy said that and other businesses in Cope and Joes went under because one or more GPS manufacturers apparently removed that segment of U.S. 36 from their mapping software. Consequently, all the traffic that normally would use U.S. 36 gets routed down onto Interstate 70. She said her mother bought a new car that came with GPS that informed her she was not on a road when she drove west on U.S. 36. Could it be that GPS companies actually destroyed the economies of two eastern Colorado towns?

I paused in Cope to photograph the cafe and the gas station down the street where I filled my tank more than once.

I stopped again for gas and a snack at Byers, discovering the Sinclair station there now has pay-at-the-pump. My ride through Denver around to U.S. 285 was uneventful. I caught a few raindrops around Bailey, but stayed dry the rest of the way to the Sinclair station in Fairplay where I phoned Tim Balough and announced my presence in the high country.

I parked at Chateau Balough and we Jeeped down to the South Park Saloon in Alma for a late lunch of burgers and beer.

Now, I’m sitting here on the living room couch, blogging, taking the occasional glance at Hoosier Pass and listening to my ears ring from the lack of oxygen here at 10,640 feet.

Fog on the Kansas-Colorado border

ST. FRANCIS, Kans. – It’s 7:15 a.m. and the sun isn’t up yet here on the western edge of the Central Time Zone.

The temperature is 60 degrees and it’s very foggy, so I’m in no rush to get onto the road.

I’m going to shower, pack, help myself to the continental breakfast in the motel office, gas the bike and then mosey on to Colorado.

Kansas today, Colorado tomorrow

ST. FRANCIS, Kans. – I’m settled in comfortably in my rooms – yes that was rooms, plural – at the charming old Cook’s Empire Motel in St. Francis, Kans. after a generally pleasant 387-mile ride across the Sunflower State on U.S. 36.

Garmin says I spent 6 hours 32 minutes in motion with an average moving speed of 58.2 mph. I spent an hour and 21 minutes stopped for gas and food and my maximum speed was 114 mph (passing two big grain trucks on a wide open straightaway somewhere in eastern Kansas).

I found the Empire Motel with an Internet search last  night and phoned in my reservation from the road. It’s one of those old mom and pop places run by a young couple (no curry powder aroma in the office because they’re definitely multi-generational Americans). I was stunned to discover I actually have a suite of rooms and can choose which of the two bedrooms to occupy tonight. I’m picking the front room so I can be closer to the door and my bike, although this place feels relatively secure.

What makes this place even better is the free Wifi and the fact that my Sprint cell phone has a booming 5 bars of signal strength. It’s costing me a very modest $37 and change.

And, Alma, Colo., is within easy striking distance (274 miles)tomorrow. I gain an hour when I cross into the Mountain Time Zone 15 miles west of here.

Before leaving St. Joseph, I stopped to pose my bike at the old Pony Express stables where the short-lived (April 1860 to October 1861) mail service began. It seemed appropriate, since the Pony Express route followed present-day U.S. 36 from St. Joseph to Marysville, Kans.

Then I rode a few blocks east to pose it in front of the house where Bob Ford blew a hole in Jesse James’s head on April 4, 1882. I visited the house and toured the grounds a few years ago when I was researching a piece on the Jesse James tourism draw of western Missouri for RoadBike magazine. The house originally stood a couple  of blocks north on Lafayette Street, but was moved to the Belt Highway in 1939 and then again to its present location in 1977 as part of the Pattee House Museum complex.

I stopped for lunch at the Belleville Dairy Queen where I got a cheeseburger and cup of water for an amazing $1.61.

I paused again a short distance east of Smith Center to pose the bike in front of an historical marker informing passers-by that they are three miles south and a mile east of the actual geographic center of the 48 contiguous states. So I guess this is a picture of my bike slightly off-center.

I jammed on the brakes about 15 miles west of Smith Center to photograph the city limits sign of the unfortunately named Athol of  Kansas. That makes Goobertown and Buck Snort, Ark., seem absolutely refined.

And on the mechanical front, I was delighted to find that I can actually see the oil level in my newly replaced sight glass. The original sight glass had become so murky as to be unusable, so I had it replaced when the bike was serviced a couple of weeks ago at Grass Roots BMW Motorcycles in Cape Girardeau, Mo.