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Kansas City Irish Festivals, Music, Pubs, & Events by an Artist in Ireland

Ambush on Pancake Boulevard

Part 52 of the Cycle-Across-America series. (Read from the start in Boston or see the full index)

Excerpted from my journal. In southwest Kansas.

Wednesday, 9th October.

Journeys. 3 films for the first time each, all on video. Most definitely not my preferred medium of viewing but all 3 very entertaining, and viewed in the context of the cycle possess something I wouldn’t've seen if watched earlier in the year in Dublin.

If tomorrow goes to plan then I cross two state lines. Right through the Panhandle of Oklahoma and into the Panhandle of Texas. And why shouldn’t it go to plan? - yesterday did.

Although I’m only 60 miles from Colorado I’ve somewhat reluctantly decided to carry on with the plan and keep south. That said, the forecast for a 15mph east wind tempts me again but it doesn’t rid me of the basic problem that there is nowhere to stay in Colorado unless I travel in and north a bit.

A 3 and a half hour sleep in Dodge meant I was up and ready to leave about 9-ish, which meant I could avail of the free breakfast over the usual chit-chat.

Perhaps I didn’t really want to talk having only cycled a mere 31 miles into town and not feeling worthy. But then one of the staff told another they should have pity for me as I rode in in the storm, and I felt a bit better.

When one of them asked me if I was finished with my now empty cup of tea I took a couple of minutes to say yes please. Her next question: Was the language we spoke in Ireland any different especially in relation to how we said please and thank you ?

[The rest of this entry is below the fold]

Stopped at the Boot Hill museum and took a photo of the fake rebuilt street through the fence. The car park where the drive-by shootings had taken place now had only a large R.V.

It was cool and very foggy so I wore the long pants, my jacket and the high visibility vest but 10 miles out of town the fog was gone. Somewhere on the way out I crossed the Arkansas River but I never noticed it. I was told the river is pronounced “Ar - Kansas” unlike the state of “Ark-an-saw”.

Grass, corn, milo, all the usual suspects along Highway 56 from a nice wide shoulder. Even a couple of miles of sunflowers which once past their best are actually quite an ugly combination of a faded yellow and a dirty brown.

I needed to supplement breakfast so I stopped in the small town of Ensign - my last chance for 30 miles before Meade. I had just left the county of Ford and entered Gray County. There was a small bar with a large black dog barking outside to greet me.

Inside the dark pokey place was a pool table, a counter for sitting at and some groceries and drinks for sale. He didn’t talk much but he was helpful. A cheeseburger and a pizza steak sandwich from the microwave were the distasteful objects I ate.

The shoulder had disappeared at the county line so 6 miles after Ensign I was glad to turn south onto Highway 23 - one of the featured as suitable on the Kansas Bicycle Suitability Map unlike US 56 that I was leaving. I could see the town of Montezuma ahead as I turned left. Yet another one of those interestingly named towns I wouldn’t be passing through.

I liked this road. Views were mostly to the left which was back towards the east. That made sense as I was climbing at about the rate of 10 feet per mile as I went west. Dodge City is at an elevation of 2′500, Meade 2′470, and Liberal 2′851.

Flat lands of grasses, different colours of milos from the younger rich brown, through the sickly milk chocolate brown, to the dirty yellow where it resembles a field of rape seed if not so brilliant. Cattle by a pool of water and a windmill. I did my shouting trick again and they stopped.

In the distance were grain storage elevators of Fowler and Ensign. I do a lot of looking backwards on the bike, particularly with no traffic around. You get a view from a saddle you can’t get from a car or a train.

Meade I liked. A wide cross-roads with a very western feel. The only restaurant was closed and no sign of any cafe. I had only 45 minutes if I was to make sunset, but I still went the few blocks to the Dalton Gang Hideout.

Original House the sign proclaimed which immediately made me suspect that it wasn’t the original location so I decided not to go in. Like building a copy of the old Dodge City (burnt down in reality and rebuilt in stone and brick) on the site of the now closed cemetery - it didn’t ring true. You lose the sense of history. It seemed as authentic as a copy in a snowy jar of water. A lone vehicle parked outside was that R.V. from Dodge.

More awful warmed food in a gas station sitting beside people playing Bingo with a monitor and I left Meade 10 minutes behind schedule. Outside of town a historical marker referred to “Lone Tree Massacre”.

Towards the end of the Indian Wars, Indians from Indian Territory (Oklahoma) reservations would escape north and go on raids. Chief Medicine Water did that with 25 Cheyenne warriors and “murdered” 27 whites. You tend to notice that any amount of killed white people are classified as a massacre and warrants an historical marker.

This was US 54 and I had 38 miles to go before ringing my contact in Liberal. The wind eased, I grew stronger, and the road turned south-west. My speed was from 11 to 13mph which meant I would make it.

The trip would be over 85 miles making it the largest of Phase Two and indeed the second longest since the 25th of August back in Georgia - Tallapoosa (KC, MO 117 miles being the longest). Now it was hot and I had shed the pants, the jacket and the vest. Insects were like gravel being thrown in my face, homing in on my eyes and my mouth.

And then I got a bad bad stitch. I blamed the bad food I’d eaten hurriedly earlier. It was agony but to stop would put me in darkness later so I grimaced and groaned for 10 miles as I went past the town of Plains and into Kismet. Here I limped in off the highway and dropped to the ground.

15 minutes later I took a photo of angular grain buildings against a blue sky and then ambled through the pretty little town to the food store. A pint of milk for my thirst and it would do my stitch no harm I convinced myself. Now I simply had to pedal faster.

So I did 13 and a half mph all the way in - the last 20 miles. There’s a huge valley in the middle of pure grasslands I crossed with pock marks and rocks throughout both sides of the valley for miles. At the bottom the bridge is banked and much higher to lessen the up and down slopes. The river is a few feet of still water. I was surprised.

As I came into town I was downwind of the County Seward Sanitary Landfill. It stank and when I passed it here was a couple of factories with their own repulsive smells. I suppose in a car you don’t notice so much. I wondered if it was doing me any harm.

The wide shoulder stopped as I entered the town and the road changed into a 4-lane highway. This is where US Highway 54 is called Pancake Boulevard. Every year in Liberal and in some town in England they have a pancake race and the person with the quickest time (minimum number of flips included) from either town wins.

The sun was low and I was looking for a phone. At the Yellow Brick Road I saw one and stopped after an 88 mile day. I rang my contact who said he was coming to get me in his faded yellow something or other pick-up. I said I wasn’t good on makes but faded yellow I could work with.

While waiting, mosquitoes who I hadn’t seen for weeks - over a month in fact - got me. The surprise element. As I sit here now about 30 bites have flared up on my arms, hands, legs, neck and face. After being bitten I put my prevention stuff on me.

It was called the Yellow Brick Road because it leads to The Land of Oz where Dorothy’s house is. I think Baum wrote the book in 1907 and this is when this house was built. I’m not sure if the house in the book is based on this one or more probably vice versa. I do know that literature and postcards etc. relating to Oz always refer to “The Wizard of Oz” which if I remember correctly is the name of the film whereas Baum’s book is called “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”. Either way it didn’t stop me singing that song as I came within 5 miles of Liberal on the bike.

Beside Dorothy’s house is the Coronado Museum. I had intended to go today but not getting up ’til 11.30 and then eating a wonderfully filling large pancake (buttermilk) breakfast left me happy to relax and pour over maps of Texas and New Mexico that unasked for, my host brought me back very generously.

So all I know about the Spaniard Coronado is that he crossed the Arkansas River a few miles east of Dodge. hopefully in the morning I’ll read the plaque. I think there’s a statue of him there too. This will be when I go back to pick up the line and cycle on from where I stopped.

Now I’m watching an infomercial on the “autobike” - a hybrid thing with automatic changing of gears. Given that they compare it only to a road bike (rather than another hybrid or a mountain bike) and to a single speed cruiser (downright ridiculous comparison) - I don’t trust them at all. 279 dollars. Yes, that’s plenty of reason not to call.

It reminds me of that stupid Minister I read about in KC who designed a bike that goes forward when you pedal backward as well as forward. None of the bicycle manufacturers were interested in his design. I’m almost tempted to go back to one of the many TV stations which are so keen for me to have perfect abs.

So again I’ve stayed in the wonderfully rich, generous and honest company of Americans. My first time in a trailer house. I’ve had a lot of tea and more food than I should eat. I’ve been introduced to, and become a fan of, beef jerky and mustard pretzels.

A fish pond with 22 rich goldfish under the lilies. An underground storm shelter nearing completion for more protection from tornadoes than a trailer can offer. A garage, where Long Grass sleeps, with arrangements for tools so impressive I have ideas for Dad when I get home. Or ideas for me for Dad. Or at least stories for Dad.

I’ve done a lot of talking here, especially about families and I look forward to returning to KC to talk with friends about my time here. I’ve been refuelled with warm memories to take me the next 5 days to Lubbock.

Read the Next Entry (#53) in My Bicycle Trip Across America

Read more from my Cycle Across America

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 21st, 2008 at 2:34 am and is filed under 1-eolai, Cycle Across America. You can follow responses via my RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.