Date - July 31st 2020

Current Location - Great Bend KS

Miles Traveled - 2,019

For whatever reason, Kansas has always been the state I dreamed of as this journey approached. It doesn’t have the epic vistas of Colorado, or the rolling farmlands of Virginia, but it marks a moment far from home. A moment far from the beginning of the trip, and far from the end, fully immersed in this new lifestyle. Through the last few months at my desk job, I imagined being here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing, asking myself, “how did I get here?”

Crossing the state line from Missouri to Kansas was much like crossing into Kentucky, the change was immediate (see section 2). The gently curving highway became dead straight as it conformed to Kansas’s rigorous grid layout. The Trans AM maps reflected this with a series of straight lines and infrequently placed 90 degree turns, making navigation a breeze. At every small gas station, cowboy hats, boots with spurs and overalls are the norm, and like always, the people we have met through these small towns are incredibly hospitable.

Sometimes the state lines are more blurred. The landscape and people through PA, MD, and VA very gradually changed, and the difference from IL to MO was hardly noticeable. Throughout this trip I have been thinking of how our mode of travel differs from a road trip with a gas-guzzling motor. The changes we have noticed might go unseen, replaced by the underwhelming passing of another state sign down an unchanging interstate. Rest stops are full of other travelers passing through, far from the people who reside here. While the landscape rushing by the car window may reflect this new territory, it feels detached. You can’t pull off to explore an oil pump, or experience the gaze of 100 cows as they watch you slowly cycle by.

Prom

We took our rest day to begin the section in the lovely brick lined streets of Fort Scott KS. On our way out, we stumbled upon what seemed like all 7,765 of the towns residents gathered outside of a BBQ joint. At first glance I thought we had discovered the most popular eatery in Kansas, but after some investigation and conversation with the moms of Fort Scott, we found out what was going on. It’s prom night. With our bikes situated behind all the supportive parents, we headed in to get our fix of Barbecue, and although the crowd wasn’t there for the smoked meat, it was fantastic. Finally, the eagerly awaited moment came, as couples dressed to the 9s entered the promenade. The mom next to us took a last chomp at her baby back ribs, then rushed out to catch the action. One by one, the high schoolers made their way to the end of the procession, which just so happened to be where we stashed our bikes unknowingly. Families were snapping pics of this special moment, with the perfect backdrop of our very own bicycles. I’m not sure if the photo takers acknowledged them at first, but I hope upon review they notice John’s muddy bike in the background with a backpack bungeed to the back rack.

Night Riding

Through the beginning of Kansas, the mid day temperatures were exceeding 100 degrees, forcing us to bike in the cool comfort of darkness. Prior to this state we had plenty of early mornings, but riding into the night was a new experience of this section. We left Fort Scott at 7pm, and quickly entered the desolate no mans land between towns. Patches of low trees bordered the roads of eastern Kansas, and our shadows stretched to the far side of the road as the sun set. Traffic is sparse, so we spend most of our time biking side-by-side in the center of the lane, like a car with weak wobbly headlights moving 45 mph under the speed limit. The faint hum of a motor can be heard from miles away, followed by the sight of a dot of light in the darkness as the car approaches. After the last bit of sun is snuffed out on the horizon, the feeling of nothingness is even more present. Eventually, our formation broke as everyone found their own pace, and it was just me, the front of my bike, and the short stretch of road illuminated by my headlight. I couldn’t tell how far ahead the others were, I just saw the red dot of a tail light that reassured me that I wasn’t alone.

At the top of one small hill, I could see little patches of light in the expanse of darkness marking the tiny towns. Five miles down the road is Coyville, with a population of 66, then a right turn and ten more miles to our destination Toronto KS, population 262. I dipped back down, and the lights were gone. With nothing else to look at, watching the road in front of me zip by can be entrancing and meditative. At night, you can’t tell if you are going up or down, and there is no way of knowing what comes next. You just pedal at the pace your legs want to take you. My focus or lack there of, was broken by a reflective street sign, “Coyville town limits.” There was just a single street light and a couple of houses, then back into the darkness.

I felt the wind pick up, and that was my only hint that I was headed down a hill. A few bugs were quickly illuminated in my headlight as I rushed by them, jolting me out of the trance like state. In a split second, these massive moths would appear from the darkness, and dive bomb into by headlight, and more often into me. The frequency of smacks on my bare chest started to sound like machine gun fire, and the peaceful night turned to all out war. I ducked, *smack* right in the forehead, I raised my hand, swatting dozens as they swarmed my face. One brave kamikaze bug broke my defenses, landed the finishing blow, right to my eye ball. Half blinded, I slowed to a stop to get my bearings, but it wasn’t long before I was the centerpiece of a blood thirsty mosquito feast. I felt them all over, and quickly put on my shirt, while smacking various limbs in desperation. I hopped back on the bike with a minor casualty but the worst was over.

Eventually we regrouped entering Toronto KS at around 10 pm. The main stretch of town was a classic Midwest scene, a road far too wide for the quaint one story shops lining it. Two streetlights and a vending machine were the only things separating this place from the darkness we came from, and there was not a single car or person in sight. A ghost town. Off of the main stretch, there was a public looking building with a small canopy over the back door. We stowed the bikes here, and pitched the tents around the corner. My alarm was set for 4am, and I was eager to get out of our illegal camping situation in this mysterious town before the sun rose.

After a turbulent nights sleep on a mat that deflates every 30 minutes (despite my best patching attempts) We started to pack up camp. It was still dark, around 5:30 AM, when a pickup truck pulled up to the door. Some how, some way, we chose the only door in town that would need to be accessed at this ungodly hour. Unsure of who we might be encountering, we grabbed our knives and pepper spray and kept them close by our sides. We heard the engine turn off. The truck door opened. A couple foot steps, then a head peaked around the corner. It was an older man with a cowboy hat on, “hey there, would you mind moving these bikes out of the way?” He said with a friendly smile. He asked us a few more questions about our trip, then invited us in for coffee, and to refill our waters. A couple more pickup trucks arrived, and two other elderly gentleman joined us in what we learned was the old gym of a high school that was torn down. Over coffee, we chatted about the decline of the town, and its namesake. Settlers from Canada originally founded Toronto KS, and took the name of their great city to describe this small community. Over and over we have been surprised by the generosity of the people across small town America as our expectations of hostility or confusion are always met with a warm welcome.

Sunrise - From left to right, Jason, Jake, John.

Creative Napping

With our partially nocturnal sleep schedule, napping has become a critical component of the section. Typically, we will get to bed around 11 or 12 PM, only to start biking again after four hours of sleep. With a proper napping spot, the other four hours needed would come easily in the afternoon while waiting out the heat, but it is easier said then done. Even under a shady tree (if there were any in Kansas) the 100 degree heat is unbearable, and the bugs will be sure to interrupt your slumber. But of course, we are problem solvers full of innovative solutions, and we devised a plan.

After eating sandwiches out back of the Walmart in Chanute KS, Jake pitched the idea of finding a spot in the store to sleep. Eyes heavy, and feeling the effects of sleep deprivations, I shrugged my shoulders, “it couldn’t hurt to try.” With that, we set off on the hunt for the perfect napping spot. The automatic doors slid open, and the gang rolled in, with absolutely no intention of shopping. We are here with only one mission. To nap. The feeling of the AC after a long morning in the sun was heavenly, and we were even more determined to make this work.

First the garden section. We strolled through, checking the shelves to see if they could hold a human and looking for hiding spots as we muttered to each other, “Ah yes, plants, yes maybe I’ll buy this weed wacker, yes.” The Walmart employees totally bought it, nothing to see here, just your usual shopper. Unfortunately, the garden section was riddled with cameras, and that was a risk we couldn’t take. We kept strolling through the store until we reached the pet section, and more specifically, the dog food isle. We are on to something here.

The shelves were sturdy, and the large bags of dog food were two rows deep. With a little bit of rearranging, we could be totally hidden, and so, we got to work. I reached to the back of the shelf, and pulled a 40lb bag of dog food out. “Hey guys, do you think our very real dog Jeffery will like the Blue Buffalo?” Then Jason did the same, “hmmm maybe the Pedigree.” With each bag we pulled out, our wall of napping privacy became taller, and the pit behind deeper.

With construction complete, there was only one obstacle between us and slumber, the entry. It is fine, albeit a little suspicious, to be seen moving bags of dog food, but we need to ensure no one sees us dive in or the whole operation is a bust. First was Jason. Jake and I made sure the coast was clear, then he climbed up to his top bunk, making an absurd amount of noise as he plopped down into the dog food bags. He got settled, then it was quiet. Entry #1 successful. Next was Jake. I gave him a thumbs up from down the isle, and he dove in head first to the rack below Jason. Once again the rustles died down to silence, and he was in. Entry #2 successful. John was busy “testing out the bean bag chairs,” so I had to make an entry without the luxury of a spotter. I peaked my head out of the isle… it looks clear. Fingers crossed, I dove head first into my dog food den, and quickly moved a few bags to block the hole I jumped through. It was so loud, but somehow, I too was not seen. Entry #3 successful.

The icing on the metaphorical nap cake was the dog bed delivery. Shortly after, John too made a successful entry into the dog food isle inn. We were all within 20 feet of each other, snickering to ourselves as clueless shoppers searched the dog food isle for the right brand.

After the first 30 minutes, the novelty and excitement of the situation wore off, and we were actually able to get some sleep. Every time a shopper took a bag, we would move another into its place and get back to bed. Three hours into nap time, we all got hungry, and I made a swift exit from my cave to stop by the Subway on the other side of the Walmart. I picked up some subs for the guys, then headed back to the dog food isle. Jason’s sub came flying over the dog food wall to the top shelf, then I slipped Jake his chicken teriyaki through the narrow gap between the shelf and the top of the bags.

After five hours, we were finally ready to get back on the road. Jake, John, and I made clean exits, but Jason was stuck in a precarious situation. Two college-age employees began restocking the isle. He survived the first two rounds of restock, but on the third run, they came with a cart full of Pedigree, the exact dog food he was hidden behind. The jig is up.

John’s sloppy exit, somehow he wasn’t spotted.

I was pretending to shop for dog food as I watched the employees discover our fallen soldier.

“Wait, is that a leg?”

”Is someone back there?”

One employee peaked their head over the shelf to see Jason, curled up in the dog food, wide eyed, like a deer in the headlights. There was a moment of silence, as neither party knew how to address the peculiar situation. “You should probably get out,” one of them finally said. With his tail between his legs, Jason climbed down from his napping perch, and walked away before anything else came of it.

Quickly Jason realized that he forgot something in his spot, and he made his way back to the isle where he ran into the young restocks once again. He explained our situation, trying to escape the heat for a harmless nap, and they laughed and said, “I mean, you could probably come back if you want to, we won’t tell the management.” Wow… just wow, even the Walmart is hospitable!

The Storm

The heat wave of the first few days was followed by a series of thunderstorms. With nothing but flat fields, we could see the monstrous storm clouds waiting for us well before we hit them, but with no shelter for tens of miles, there was no choice but to power through the rain in hopes of reaching a town. This was the case on one evening ride to Nickerson Kansas. We had 17 miles to the town when we first noticed a cloud on the horizon flashing with lightning. There was really nothing we could do but try to beat it to Nickerson. It was heading in from the west, and we were converging from the east. We picked up the pace, and raced the storm as the sky grew darker and darker.

Eventually, we were right at the edge of the raging wall of cloud, and the weather went from calm to treacherous in an instant. 60 mph winds started throwing us all over the road, and huge raindrops pelted from above. We were still 2 miles outside of Nickerson, and there was no way we could push on. On the side of the road we spotted an abandoned farm structure with no roof, and pulled off. It wasn’t much, but we set the bikes down, and braced ourselves from the wind for half an hour until things died down. It was a scary moment, not being able to see what the storm was whipping up, and not knowing how much worse it would get. Eventually, we all made it to the town park in Nickerson, and had a pavilion safe from the rain.

The gang in Nickerson drinking chocolate milk while talking about how crazy the storm was.

Section 5 - Kansas