Two Flats to Lamar

Saturday, Sept. 14. Lamar, Co.  The day broke sunny and clear. All indicators pointed to a good day until I looked at my front tire; flat again. It was fine before I went to bed. Flat number 4 was in the record book. But I was not going to give it the satisfaction of swapping it out. I pumped air into it and went to breakfast with everyone else. When I returned, the tire held, a slow leak, good enough to go.

We crossed the Arkansas River from what was once Spain then Mexico to the section that was part of the Louisiana Purchase. Ten miles down the road, we stopped at Bent’s Old Fort, an impressive adobe structure that was a hub of trading activity during the heyday of the Santa Fe Trail. The gun room is pictured at rights. The fort's founder, William Bent, had a rather enlightened attitude to the Indians. His fort was open to everyone on the trail, and thanks to Bent a thriving trade in Buffalo robes began with the Cheyenne Indians who lived in this region. The fort, of course, was also a place where the wagon trains and their crews that were headed to Santa Fe or outward bound for Missouri had a chance to recuperate, make repairs and re-supply.

After spending an hour at the fort, we continued east, once again catching an excellent tail wind. The sun shined, though clouds loomed in the south and continued to obscure the rapidly fading mountains to the west. The cultivated fields around La Junta faded and we entered an area where the soil seemed very poor, and not much grew. When passing cottonwood trees we were serenaded by the shrill call of cicadas. In the afternoon, near a village called Hasty, Russ noted that his rear tire was losing air. We stopped for him to pump it up, but about a half later it became apparent the tube needed to be changed.That task done, we headed out again, but in about ten minutes my front tire went flat, my fifth of the trip. A goathead thorn was the culprit. When we were stopped, motorists on two separate occasions stopped and asked if we needed help. In general, car and truck drivers have been pretty good about giving us a wide berth. We have not had car bike conflicts on this trip; at least not yet.

Highway 50 passed a gigantic stockyard its aroma present for miles, then the highway bent south just as we entered Lamar once again crossing the Arkansas River. Now the once friendly wind was our enemy. We took it face first. We grinded our way through central Lamar, which seemed to be very long. Steve led and almost got picked off twice, both times by drivers not paying attention on left turns. These events, plus the incessant wind, did not leave us with a positive impression of Lamar. Oh well, tomorrow we will be in Kansas, a new state for me.

At dinner we sat with Robert from Atlanta. He told us some wild tales about biking in Egypt during the recent revolution (the first one – involving the removal of Mubarak). Robert, of course knows Gunther, and they have biked together many times. Robert also told me that he has had six flat tires on this trip, all in the front. So I’m still not the leader in this category and I hope never to be.

Stats: 65 miles. Flat tires: Please see above. Roadkill: 1 raccoon, 1 cat, 1 unidentified mess. Thing I like best so far about the trip: Living in the moment as a tail wind pushes me along at 25 miles an hour, the scenery flying by and the big sky opening overhead. Worst thing: Biking in a monsoon four days ago and some of the food in these student cafeterias is getting wearisome.