The alarm went off at 5:00 AM and I groggily got out of bed. I am always pretty slow when I first get up, no matter how long I have slept. Often times I'll hit the snooze button two or three times before I even become coherent enough to realize I am doing it. This morning however, the anticipation of the day was too great and I woke up enough to comprehend that it was morning and make my way out of the bedroom.
After a few minutes I was alert, and made my preparations. I was glad that I had most everything prepared the night before, as it made the final preparations much smoother.
At 5:45 I snapped a picture and rolled out of the garage.
I left a few minutes earlier than my target time of 6:00 because my first stop was only eight blocks away. I needed to top off the tank and check my tire pressure before I hit the road. This took a few minutes longer than I anticipated, but by 6:10 I was hitting the interstate heading south.
I had decided that because this was a pleasure trip, I really didn't have to be anywhere by a certain time. I had the estimated times I would be at each stop, of which I left a copy with my wife to aid the rescue workers in locating my corpse, but I wasn't going to get up in arms about hitting each one as close as I could, or about rushing through my gas stops to make good time. Because of this, I set the throttle lock to hold me at 65 mph even though in South Dakota the interstate speed is 75. My bike gets much better mileage at 65 versus 75 (like a 10-15 mpg difference!), and it was nice to not have to worry about passing people. I could just sit and ride and enjoy the scenery and let the other people worry about making good time. My first scheduled stop was in Council Bluffs, about 180 miles down the road.
The weather was sunny, and in the low '70s. There was a very strong headwind coming out of the south, but it didn't seem to bother me much. Crosswinds are much more difficult to deal with. This was coming straight on and my windshield blocked quite a bit of it.
I crossed the Iowa border on the north side of Sioux City, IA.
I hadn't scheduled a rest stop, but once I got a few miles south of Sioux City my bladder got the best of me. I pulled into the rest stop and took a short break. I noticed my bowl of cereal I'd eaten for breakfast was starting to wear off. The rest stop had vending machines, but I didn't have anything smaller than a $10 bill on me. So I decided that I could make it until my gas stop in Council Bluffs, which was an hour down the road.
On the stretch from Sioux City to Council Bluffs, I started fighting sleep. This is unusual for me on a bike, as normally the wind and noise is enough to keep me alert. The straight road, dull views, empty stomach and lack of sleep I had been getting lately were taking their toll and I could feel myself getting drowsy. I would purposefully look around at things, move my feet and arms around and sing to keep myself alert. The last thing I wanted was to wreck less than two hours into the trip!
I managed to stave off sleep until I rolled into the Omaha/Council Bluffs area. On the north end of town, I hit my reserve tank. Not too bad considering I'd come about 180 miles. Once I got to the south end of Council Bluffs, I pulled off the interstate and found a gas station to refuel, both the bike and myself.
The temps were rising. I was wearing a light jacket which was starting to become a little warm, even when I was going down the interstate. I took it off, which means I also had to apply sunscreen. I hate that stuff but I hate the results of not wearing it more, so I doused my body in it.
In the gas station I was looking for something to eat that was a little more substantial than just a candy bar. They had a sale on tuna-salad sandwiches. I'm not a big tuna salad fan, but I am cheap, so I bought one. I also grabbed a package of mini chocolate donuts and a soda. The sandwich was actually pretty good, and filled that empty spot in my stomach. I decided to wait on gnawing the mini donuts until I was back on the road so I placed them in the pocket of my vest. Back on the road, the next (planned) stop was Kansas City.
After I got south of Council Bluffs and the traffic had subsided enough for me to be comfortable, I reached in my pocket for the mini chocolate donuts. Apparently the temps were higher than I thought, because already they had turned into a melted chocolate mess. I looked at the donut mess wrapped in their package and decided that wasn't something I wanted to attempt to deal with while moving, so I placed them back in my pocket. My soda was also getting warm at a rapid pace, so I downed that as well. I stuck the bottle back in my holding place behind the windshield, figuring it would be wise for me to fill it with water at the next stop. If it's that warm outside that means it's easy to get dehydrated while riding and not even realize it.
I passed from Iowa into Missouri. I wanted to get a picture of the "welcome to Missouri" sign, but there was road construction that shut down the right lane at the border. I decided it wasn't worth the risk of getting hit just to snap a picture of a welcome sign. Getting drilled by a semi wouldn't make me feel very welcome.
About an hour north of Kansas City, my bladder got the best of me again. I must be getting old, as I needed another rest stop to relieve the pressure. I also took the opportunity to recharge my shorts with Gold Bond powder (the long distance rider's secret weapon.) I filled up my bottle with water and salvaged what I could of the mini chocolate donuts. The heat had pretty much rendered them a crumbly, gooey mess. I'm guessing the temp was in the mid '90s at this point.
As I rolled into the north end of Kansas City, it started to rain. I had a lunch/gas stop planned for KC, so even though the rain started coming down pretty steady, I decided not to pull over to don my rain gear and press on to my stop. I hit the reserve tank again, which would turn out to be the last time I used it on the entire trip.
I was on a mission for my next stop: Popeye's. I discovered the glory of Popeye's restaurants when my wife and I were engaged. She was going to seminary in New Orleans, and I flew down to visit her several times. She introduced me to their chicken, biscuits and, most importantly, their red beans & rice! The nearest Popeye's from Sioux Falls is 180 miles away in Omaha. So, I don't get to eat it as often as I would like (for which my waistline probably thanks me.) Whenever I travel, however, I map out where the Popeye's locations are so that I can try and hit one (or two.)
When I dismounted the rain had subsided some but it was still sprinkling. I couldn't tell from the clouds whether it would get heavier or lighter so I decided to play it safe and wrap my tent and sleeping bag in plastic. Trying to sleep that night in a wet bag wouldn't be much fun!
I had a somewhat leisurely meal (compared to my normal travel lunches) and thoroughly enjoyed my chicken. I had gotten a family-sized side of red beans & rice, of which I had consumed approximately half. I could have easily eaten the rest, but I decided I didn't want to be sick from being so full. I saved the rest for a late-afternoon snack.
Back on the bike, it was still sprinkling. I needed gas, so as I headed back towards the interstate I pulled into a station. This turned out to be the first of many incidents I would have with gas pumps on this trip. I rarely, if ever, have problems with pay-at-the-pump. This trip, however, proved to be different. Crazy.
The pump didn't want to accept my card. Actually, it didn't want to do anything. It looked like it had locked up. After three trips into the cashier, two phone calls to her boss, running my credit card manually, and having the cashier chase me down as I was pulling away because she did the transaction wrong, I finally pulled out of the gas station. My quick 5 minute fill up turned into more than 20 minutes.
My next leg of the journey took me through downtown Kansas City. On the south side of KC, I was going to pick up highway 71. I had hoped that mid-day traffic wouldn't be too bad as I went through downtown. In reality, traffic itself wasn't overly heavy, however there was road construction which really backed things up. It took much longer to get through the city than I had anticipated. Thankfully, I wasn't on a tight time schedule.
Once I got on highway 71 heading south, the rain stopped and the wind subsided. The sun was occasionally peeking through the clouds, but for the most part it was still overcast. The further south I got however, the more the sun came out. And the more the sun came out, the hotter it got. I never did catch a temperature reading that afternoon, but it was blistering.
Highway 71 between Kansas City and Joplin, MO is about as dull as it gets. The miles would just slowly creep by as I baked in the afternoon sun. I hadn't yet gotten to a scenic part of Missouri. I started to fight sleep again, just out of sheer boredom, so I went back to my singing and trying to come up with new ways to position my feet.
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached my next gas stop, which was Carthage, MO. I pulled into the station and filled up. It was at this point I realized that my sunscreen had failed. I was pretty red, and even my lips were a little burned (but nothing near what I did to them in Yellowstone two years prior!) The heat and boredom were really getting to me, but I knew if I stopped for any length of time I wouldn't want to get back on the bike that day. Plus, according to my itinerary I was running more than an hour behind and I wanted to be able to enjoy my evening in Eureka Springs.
After filling up, I pushed the bike out of the way as the pumps were rather busy, and went inside to use the restroom and grab a soda. I opened the restroom door and saw way more of a guy than I wanted (why don't some people use the lock?) Back outside, I drank my soda which was wonderfully cold and downed the remainder of my red beans and rice, which were disturbingly still warm. Back on the bike I was ready for the last stretch of the day.
Thankfully, as I got off highway 71 south of Carthage, the scenery improved dramatically. The further I went the better things looked.
A few miles south of where highway 71 and I departed ways, I swung east on a highway number I can't remember and frankly at the moment am too lazy to look up. What I do remember was that I passed a grove of trees on either side of the highway, where every tree looked like it had been yanked straight up out of the ground and tossed aside. It suddenly occurred to me that I was seeing the path of destruction left by a tornado. It was pretty impressive, as these were not small trees at all and the ball of roots on the ends of them were testimony to the amount of force it took to yank them out of the ground. Heck, I've pulled with all my might on some rogue weeds in my yard and was unable to yank them out of the ground, so I can't imagine the amount of force that was present at the time this happened. Thankfully, it looked like it had happened a few weeks prior to me coming through.
As I went through Granby, MO I stopped and snapped a picture of their watertower, which touts Granby as being the oldest mining town in the southwest. The wording on the picture is somewhat illegible, but that's more or less what it said.
At Monett, I headed south on highway 37. This was my last stretch in Missouri and I was waiting in anticipation to see the "Welcome To Arkansas" sign. I've made the trip numerous times in my life and I can attest that western Missouri does not make for enjoyable travel for me. Finally, I saw it:
Just south of the Arkansas border, I picked up highway 62 heading toward Eureka Springs. Suddenly, the road was an entirely different beast. The long, straight, flat stretches of highway were gone and I was plunged into a wonderful twisty road up and down steep hills with beautiful views peeking out from behind wooded areas. It was great, and I realized it had been a while since I had been on a road such as this. The first few sweepers that caused me to grind my floorboards made me a bit uneasy until I got used to the sensation again.
The altitude was not as dramatic as the mountains of the west, but it was scenic nonetheless. Plus, I figured whether I miss a turn and drop 1000 feet or 10000 feet, I was just as dead.
Shortly after 7 PM I pulled into Eureka Springs. I had reservations at the Kettle campground. I wasn't sure where it was exactly, other than I knew it was on highway 62. I slowly rode through town and finally found it located on the east edge.
I pulled in to the campground and was dismayed to find that the office had closed for the night. However, I then noticed a note attached to a post with my name on it. It said that they had closed, but they had my site reserved for me so I could just pay them in the morning. I thought that was pretty cool.
I set up my tent and unloaded the bike. I gave a quick call to my wife to let her know I was alive, but just got the answering machine, so I left a message. Hunger was setting in, so I decided to go grab some supper, then come back to the campground where I could swim a little in the pool, grab a shower and hit the hay.
I rode back through town, not really sure what I wanted to eat. There were quite a few restaurants right along the highway. I finally happened across a little family-owned Mexican place that looked interesting. It looked like every police officer, fireman and EMT was eating there so I figured it couldn't be all bad. The special of the day was shrimp fajitas. They were wonderful. I relaxed in the air conditioning and drank a whole pitcher of water. The service was a little slow, but thankfully at this point in time I was wanting a little slow.
Back at the Kettle, it was still hot and sticky. I donned my swimsuit and headed over to the pool. The water was a bit chilly when I first got in, but then it felt wonderful. I had no sooner gotten wet when a man showed up to lock up the pool and informed me it was closed. He then looked around and asked if I was alone, to which I replied "yes." He then told me to go ahead and swim for a while and lock the gate when I was done. I thought that was a very hospitable gesture! I swam for about 15 minutes, then locked up with the padlock the man had left for me.
I went to the bath house, showered, shaved and got into some clean clothes. I then went back to the tent and laid down with a new book. After reading for about � an hour, my eyes became heavy and I decided to call it a night. I was just drifting off when my phone rang (well, my Dad's phone; I don't have a cell phone so my dad made me take his.) It was my wife calling me back. However, when I picked up there wasn't enough reception to hear anything and I was promptly disconnected. I tried to call back but the same thing happened. Looking at the signal strength meter, there was only one bar showing. I thought it interesting that before supper there had been at least four bars showing at the same location. Weird.
In any event, I decided my wife knew I was alive and resolved myself to make sure and call her the next day. I fell asleep again.
I was sleeping well considering the heat and humidity when at 2:30 AM I was awakened by two bikes with open pipes redlining their gears as they went by on the highway. Now I enjoy the sound of a motorcycle as much as the next guy, but I see no reason to be that loud at 2:30 AM in a place riddled with motels and campgrounds. From the time I guessed they were just leaving the bar, speculated they were inebriated and hoped that they were apprehended before they hurt themselves or someone else. The crickets lulled me back to sleep.
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018