“Record Heat Expected Again.” This is not news you want to accompany the beginning of a bike journey. Once again, the forecast predicted record temps. Since I began biking Kansas in the Fall of 2017, never have I encountered this kind of heat—a heat that has become more intense and more frequent than previously feared.
To try and avoid it, but not the light, I leave as the sun rises, and pray the roads treat me well.
No such luck. Five miles out, at the junction of K10 and 1800 Rd, I hit a rusty nail. I ride tubeless with the hope of minimizing flats (most small holes seal up with the liquid latex). With too big a gash, the system fails. Today it failed. So I hover at the side of the busy road, with the sun beating ever brighter and hotter, trying to engineer a fix. I quickly conclude that the tire can not be patched, so revert to using a tube. This means removing the tire, which means removing the rack. I was in the middle of unscrewing screws when a former bike mechanic who works at Berry Global stopped to help.
This project—as this day makes amply evident—requires a willingness to take risks. This means a willingness to cede my sense of self-sufficiency. The former bike mechanic kindly told me that he was sure I did not need help. The truth is that today I did.
With the help also came knowledge. As we broke the latex seal that had cemented the valve to the rim of my tire, I learned about Berry Global.
It is the largest plastic packaging producer in the world. Once all the rage for being tougher than paper, but lighter than wood, plastic packaging now faces challenges as concerns mount over the billions of tons of it that end up in landfills and leak into the environment. The Lawrence Berry Global plant just received 60 million dollars in new equipment designed to make more recyclable plastic cups.
We might have lingered longer to talk, but with the flat fixed, whizzing trucks and a blistering sun moved us on.
Aware that I had limited time before the temps became unrideable, I picked up my pace and stopped infrequently. I did pause a moment to observe just how low the water is in the Kansas River.
Three-fourths of Kansas is currently in a drought, and 1/3 is in an extreme drought.
I also stop under the shade of a cottonwood tree.
While today might be described in the news as record hot, it is never just a hot day. Even in the toughest heat, the rise of a hill kicks up a comforting breeze. A bridge over a reservoir —so many built in this part of the state in the middle of the 20th century—offers water-cooled air.
The possibility of sweeter comfort—and more plastic in the environment—lay taunting me at the side of the road.
Thankfully, no other major mishaps beset me, and I arrive in Valley Falls, KS a little after 11 in the morning.
As I pull up in front of where I will stay on main street, a woman in a parking spot across the street rolls down her window and yells: “Can I help you with anything?”
“I am fine.” I reply.
Starving from the ride, I add: “Do you have any recommendations for places to eat?”
She recommends The Elevator, a bar down the road. “The only and best place to eat. Good hamburgers!”
She was not the only person pulling in and out of parking spaces in front of The Vindicator building across the street. Intrigued by the name, despite the 100 degree heat I venture out to investigate.
It turns out this is the town newspaper. The weekly edition appears in paper headquarters at 11AM on Tuesdays. Thus the rush on parking spaces.
Every little town in Kansas used to have a paper, but these days it is hard even in big cities to keep local journalism alive. So I am eager to learn from the staff I met in the office today about how they were doing it.
Slowly and carefully, Holly Allen, the new editor explains to me. You have to build relationships, and the trust that you represent and can build the community. Allen also points out that unlike social media, this town’s newspaper endures, and so to be a part of it is a way to become a part of town history. Since its founding in the 19th century, The Vindicator has published weekly a column called ‘Out of the Past.’ This week it reprinted news from September 25, 1957: the postmaster Leslie Haas ordered a shipment of vaccine for a new strain of flu that was sweeping the world; the rose grower association named a rose after a Valley Falls man who saved a boy from drowning. The past is also more recent. News from September 26, 2002 also appears: Gary Starr made a corn maze with no left turns; a log cabin featured in the Meriden Fall Festival was built by the great great grandfather of Valley Falls resident Leona Nichols. In another 20 years, current residents of the town might similarly find themselves featured in this much beloved column.
Allen also takes seriously the newspaper’s tagline: “Dedicated to the Concept that Freedom of the Press Strengthens Democracy.” She and her co-worker give me a tour of the newspaper’s headquarters.
It contains some of the old letterpress and picture blocks
It also contains old editions of The Vindicator.
She chooses to show me a volume from the 1920s for a reason. This was a time when members of the Ku Klux Klan served on the Valley Falls city council, and editorials they contributed frequently appeared in The Vindicator’s pages. Allen recently reprinted some of these in ‘Out of the Past.’ She tells me that some in town did not like this, but she believes it important to remind people of this history so as to try and not repeat it. Newspapers should not just attempt to make money; they should also endeavor to challenge and open minds.
Inspired, but very hot from the rising temperatures, I walk over to the local grocery store and find this time a full bucket of ice cream.
A hot rich day cedes to a cooler, sweeter evening.