I knew from the start that this idea was either completely crazy or brilliant. After the first day, I now think it might be both. The guys at the Re-Cylcery in Lawrence—who re-assembled my new bike, the modestly named Cosmic Stallion—had me worried.  One too many references to the movie Deliverance, stories about being run off gravel roads by trucks traveling 60mph, and threatening storm clouds.  Thankfully, though, my new friends Sara and Byron, who helped me check over my route, cheered me on, and seemed to think the plan had some merit.

As I set off this morning, Sara gave me the map that a mentor we share in common had given her as she set off for a tour of Kansas twelve years ago. It felt comforting and a good omen.  Although as I left Sara’s six-year-old daughter Caroline and her friend did discuss my endeavor with disbelief: she’s biking all the way to the Flint Hills??  I asked Caroline if she thought I’d make it.  She answered without hesitation: ‘No.’

Caroline peeping out from behind as I take off this morning

I ultimately decided to take the straight route west out of town.  While straight, today’s route was not flat.  I can confirm: Kansas is not flat!  Over 50 miles I climbed 2300 feet. That is a respectable day’s climbing even by California standards.

The day of travel began as it would end, in sights that have inspired visions of the end of the world.  I traveled the Stull Road out of Lawrence.  Stull, KS, is the site of many media representations of the Apocalypse, including the recent U.S. t.v. series, Supernatural.   These links date back to stories printed in the 1970s in the University of Kansas student  paper reporting sightings of the Devil in the local cemetery.  But when I went by today, there was just country music blasting from the transmission shop.

I did get knocked off my straight track once today, by Forbes Airforce Base. Forbes was an important site during the Cold War, overseeing the construction of nine so-called coffins for intercontinental Atlas E missiles that were to lie horizontally underground, raised from the dead should the Soviets decide to attack the U.S..  (I am sleeping in one these coffin sites this evening—more on this later).  Why Google thought I had clearance to get through this air force base, I don’t know.

But just 50 yards up the road I discovered the Landon Nature trail, which was a much better route, offering much needed relief from the sun and heat.

I was reminded on many occasions today that it is important to stay alert and tuned into my new surroundings, but never more dramatically than when I almost ran over a large black and yellow snake that spanned the whole length of this track. I did manage to swerve in time.

On a more uplifting note, but nonetheless also part of fears about the end of the world, throughout today’s journey I was accompanied by monarch butterflies. Apparently Kansas is one of five “super stops” on the Monarch migration from Canada to Mexico. They feed on wildflowers, as they are here.

There populations have diminished by over 90% over the last two decades.  What were common companions of my youth are now rare cherished visitors.  It felt an honor to travel with them.

While accompanied by many insects, humans were far more scarce.  It was a very good idea that I brought plenty of food and water with me, as I passed nowhere to buy anything until I got to Pauline, some 32 miles into the ride.  And then my first offer was this.

The antique store across the street had a slightly more convincing appeal.

I did think about stopping here.

These small mom and pop places are still around, but infrequent.  It will not be new news that small town America is being gutted by many forces, including super stores like Target.

This distribution center just down the road from Pauline is massive.

So much has been abandoned on the roads I traveled.  Churches that no longer have parishioners.

Silos that no longer have grain.

But thankfully, some things remain.  I was particularly grateful for Sommerset Hall Café in Dover, Kansas, where I met Wen and Wayne.

Amazingly, Wen and I went to the same high school.  I ate an ice cream cone while they ate pie.  They swooned over the pie, and strongly urged me to buy a piece, even offering to pay.  But pie and ice cream?  It seemed too much.  I now regret it.  It did look amazing, and apparently the pie maker Norma Grubb won Good Morning America’s Best Pie in America award.  I now know where I will be stopping on the way back.

I needed that ice cream to make the final eight miles.  The roads were crumbly, the elevation gain persistent, and the heat intense after the clouds had cleared.

But the reward was great.  I arrived at my destination, a former military silo that from 1960 to 1964 was home to a four megaton hydrogen bomb.  This place deserves its own story, so more on it soon.

Powerful forces feel all around me.

Sunset this evening, storm clouds on the horizon

 

 

.