USA Tour Stage 20: Great Bend to McPherson, KS (64 Miles)

Click here for route flyby

After yesterday’s ordeal I was feeling more than a little apprehensive about what lay ahead today, as I am sure several other riders were. In the event we were worrying about nothing. A shorter route, sunny and warm but not overly hot air and, joy of joys, virtually no wind. And what wind there was was blowing from behind. We had even been given a start time half-an-hour later than usual – 8:00am which meant that I could complete my pre-ride routine at a much more leisurely pace. Within a few minutes of leaving, our group which today included the Fabs (with Greg) as well as Bruce, Kathy, Mike and Robin, closely shadowed by Dana, was spinning along effortlessly at around 20 mph. The change in our attitudes was palpable. Instead of yesterday’s grimaces and white knuckles there were lots of happy, smiling faces and even a fair bit of happy chatter and laughter. What a difference a day makes. Bliss!

We made such good progress that we reached the first SAG in Lyons, which Bruce told me was pronounced like the animal and not in the French way, in record time. The newest branch of the Crossroads Cycling Pop-up Diner franchise was up and running and as we approached it the CV lunged ahead as it realised that today was pie day – Pumpkin Pie to be exact! Lyons is an attractive small town which has some nice tree-lined streets in the centre providing welcome shade. It is the country seat of Rice County and as we lounged around the SBend toAG munching our pies a fine old building across the street caught my eye. Closer investigation revealed that this was the County Courthouse and the seat of the Honorable Richard E Burgess Jr., Magistrate Judge, Rice County. Seeing this, together with a chance remark from Robin over dinner later in the day, set me off on a train of thought.  How can such a small community justify a courthouse? Even accounting for the scale of the country, McPherson was just 30 miles down the road and Great Bend 30 miles behind us. So I’ve made an entry in my notebook to investigate this further when I am back home. I sense there is a story to be told which I will include in my next book…




The second half of the day’s ride was pretty much like the first. Fast and relaxed. So fast that we arrived in McPherson around noon with time on our hands. As this was a Sunday most places in the older part of the town were closed. During a very brief sortie around the town I was amazed to discover that at one time it boasted an Opera House. The preserved building now operates as film theatre and venue for hire.

I also spotted another Courthouse and alongside it a statue of Major General James B McPherson, after whom the town is named. McPherson had a distinguished career and served in the Union Army during the Civil War. He lost his life at the Battle of Atlanta after being shot by Confederate soldiers. In a twist of irony, the leader of the Confederate forces here was his former classmate and childhood friend, Lt. General John Bell Hood. With some poignancy on hearing of McPherson’s death, Bell wrote:

“I will record the death of my classmate and boyhood friend, General James B. McPherson, the announcement of which caused me sincere sorrow. Since we had graduated in 1853, and had each been ordered off on duty in different directions, it has not been our fortune to meet. Neither the years nor the difference of sentiment that had led us to range ourselves on opposite sides in the war had lessened my friendship; indeed the attachment formed in early youth was strengthened by my admiration and gratitude for his conduct toward our people in the vicinity of Vicksburg. His considerate and kind treatment of them stood in bright contrast to the course pursued by many Federal officers.”

With most places closed and an early arrival at our hotel we adjourned to Freddy’s Frozen Custard and Steakburgers, a regional fast food outlet, to kill time. The place was absolutely heaving with, judging by their dress, families who had spent the morning at one of the many churches in town. The appearance of four sweaty, lycra-clad cyclists momentarily silenced the place and we were very definitely the centre of attention. With considerable aplomb we marched to the counter, placed our orders and claimed our seats acting throughout as if this was entirely normal behaviour, which it is – for us! Gradually the assembled throng resumed its conversations though we continued to receive receive sideways glances from the patrons throughout our visit. Once we had feasted we returned to the hotel, checked in, showered, changed into our ‘street clothes’ and went in search of a bar to guzzle some pre-dinner beer.

Chatting to Pete over a glass or three I happened to mention the challenge of finding enough sockets to plug my assorted inventory of electrical apparatus in to recharge. This includes the Garmin, two bike lights, a digital camera, iPhone and iPad, electric toothbrush and Shimanono Di2 gears on the bike. If I plug everything in at once, the lights in the room dim noticeably, such is the demand for electricity. A favourite place to find sockets is in the base of the lamp that sits on the nightstand. The problem I often encounter is that I connect up via a US/UK adaptor through a UK plug and a charger which means that depending on the location of the sockets on the lamp there is often not sufficient room to squeeze it in. “Don’t you use the bible?” was Pete’s response. “Use the bible?” said I. “Yes” said Pete, “I extract the bible from the nightstand and shove it under the lamp to raise it up high enough. I’ve even made a little game of it, trying to guess which drawer the bible will be in when I first come into my room.” So dear readers, I end today’s lesson by directing you to Genesis 1:3.

USA Tour Stage 19: Liberal to Great Bend, KS (87 Miles)

Click here for route flyby.

Today was notable for a number of reasons. First and foremost I believe that I have won £1 and €1. All will be explained presently readers. Today’s stage was the toughest stage of the tour I have experienced so far. The route profile (gently downhill) and just over 80 miles looked pretty straightforward. What I hadn’t bargained on was the wind, and what a wind it was! The base wind blew at around 20mph for the whole stage. Sidewind gusts of up to 40mph during the morning more than made their presence felt especially on the exposed sections of the ride.

Today was a day where my bike handling skills were fully tested. Riding in these conditions required considerable concentration, both to stay upright and to avoid being blown into the rider next to me. Trucks approaching us created maelstroms which threatened to knock me off the CV. Trucks overtaking caused, if I was lucky, a sort of suction effect which pulled me along a tad faster for a few yards. If I was unlucky and the truck was unable to pull out then the effect was quite different – a rather violent vibration which rattled both me and the CV.

Today The Fabs and Greg linked up with some other riders – Barry, Bruce and Kathy – to form a septet on the basis of strength in numbers. We deployed a variety of tactics with mixed success. These included trying to form a through and off chain gang as well as a spot of echelon riding. With the strong winds, lack of experience of riding together, variable road conditions and a mismatch of strengths it was hard work to maintain any consistency. I have an unfortunate tendency, when reaching the head of a chain gang to go hard which can put the riders behind me in difficulty leading to gaps opening and the loss of rhythm. This is partly the result of my solo riding in windy East Anglia where I tend to use headwinds as a substitute for the absence of hill climbs. Well done, riding in a disciplined chain-gang is almost an art form. If this has whetted your appetite then have a look at this British Cycling video on You Tube. 

It was fascinating eavesdropping on the team over dinner. I think, that without exception, everyone had found this to be a hard day. But the chatter over the dinner table was the sound of weary contentment. Happy, weary contentment. I really enjoyed listening to folk share their perspectives and reflections. As I have said before, a good route makes a good ride; great riders make a great ride. As the tour progresses, days like today are the ones that build the relationships through shared experience. What in my view is brilliant, is the amount of mutual support that is evolving as the tour progresses eastwards. There is little sense of competitiveness in the group. Instead we each have deeply personal experiences in our saddles and on our bars which we share, sometimes with a few words and sometimes with a few looks and nods across the dinner table. This is one of the things that makes me eager to get back in the saddle day after day. So, I just want to say to the team and the crew – well done us!

The route continued to take us across the flatlands of Kansas on those now all too familiar long, straight roads often lined today by immense wind farms with the turbine sails rotating gracefully. Underneath was long green grass which swayed and rippled in the wind. Occasionally it almost seemed to be waving us along. At the small hamlet of Kinsley we reached a landmark, we had arrived exactly at the midpoint between San Francisco and New York. Our own route from Los Angeles to Boston means that we still have a few miles to go before we reach our midpoint. But it was a very satisfying feeling to know that we were now officially in the centre of the US of A.

On most days we pass a National Historical Monument or Site. These are usually marked by a stone engraved with information about the site. Today, one such stone caught my eye. At Pawnee, just before reaching the town of Larned we passed the site of the birthplace of Farm Credit. The 280 acres of land here were collateral for a loan made in 1917 to a stockman to support his business. At that time loans were almost impossible to obtain or were very expensive (10% interest per month was the base norm). As farming was vital to the US economy Congress passed the Federal Loan Act which made long-term land loans to farmers and ranchers. With start up funding initially provided by Congress the mechanism has since repaid all the government money and is now entirely owned and financed by the farmers and ranchers it supports. These stone markers are a constant source of learning and enjoyment for me. This is another richly rewarding aspect of the tour and one that keeps me fully engaged.

Our route sheet had highlighted the Pawnee Rock State Historic Site as a place worth visiting, even though it was slightly off the route. So a few of us did indeed divert and visit the site which is located on a small hillock, the only one for miles around. The hillock is capped by a viewing platform so, as the CV has spent the last several days moaning about the lack of a good view, I decided to give it a treat. Access to the viewing platform was via a narrow steel spiral staircase which was no obstacle to us, despite several of my riding companions suggesting that we abandon the quest. Abandon it? Not a chance! With perseverance and a bit of cursing we eventually managed to get to the top and the CV was delighted with the view. I thought it was pretty good too. If you’d like to see it, it’s on my Instagram (click here).

Now, I did say that today I have won £1 and €1. Bruce, who we were riding with has been dipping in to my musings on this site. He commented that I seem to write quite a lot of stuff about history and so on and was pretty sure that I would tell the story of Pawnee Rock in today’s report. Rather rashly, he even bet me £1 and €1 that it would appear on these pages. Well Bruce, I’ve got the last laugh as today’s history story was the Farm Credit one. Bruce works in financial services so I hope he’ll appreciate the irony! And Bruce, I am happy to receive payment with some cold, golden, 3-5% strength liquid that pours out of a green or brown bottle…

If you want to know more about Pawnee Rock then get on the Interweb and Giggle it. It’s actually a very interesting story!

USA Tour Stage 18: Liberal to Dodge City (83 Miles)

Click here for route flyby

After 3 days of riding on the 210-mile straight I was really hoping for a bit of variety today. A couple of bends ideally and, if I was really lucky maybe even a turn at a junction. And as it transpired I had all three and then some. Today started with a haze and finished in a blur. The humidity has been building for the last couple of days and with the temperature rising again it seemed that I was in for another day in the sweaty saddle sauna.

Over the last few days I’ve probably written all I can for now about the landscape we’ve been riding through. The only thing I would like to add is that during the latter part of today’s stage I almost felt I was at home in the Fens. Apart from the telegraph poles lining the roadside, the views were almost the same. A long straight two-lane road, intensively farmed fields growing arable crops including grain and maize (no beet though), irrigation gantries stretching across the fields, farm buildings and grain driers protected by small copses and, from time to time even hints of hedgerows. The big difference is that the Fenland landscape is like a scale model version of this part of Kansas.

A defining feature of today was the Wildwest, cowboys and legendary lawmen, gangs, lawlessness and tough justice. Our first encounter was in the small town of Meade where the latest Crossroads Cycling Pop-up Diner had located itself. And what a location – right in the centre of the infamous Dalton Gang’s hideout. During a relatively short career from 1890-92, the three Dalton brothers and their other associates carried out a number of train robberies in the area, helping themselves to significant sums of cash and other valuables. Their end came on 5 October 1892 when, in an attempt to outdo their rival Jesse James, they tried to rob two banks on either side of the same street on the same day. They were rumbled, partly due to the delaying tactics of a clerk in one of the banks, and in the ensuing gunfight two of the brothers and two associates were killed. Another brother, Emmett Dalton survived despite receiving 23 gunshot wounds. He was sentenced to life imprisonment and pardoned after 14 years. Today Meade is a rather quieter place and the Dalton’s legacy lives on through a museum and several of the family’s properties which have been preserved for posterity.

From Meade we made our way speedily and sweatily onwards with a quick pause to rehydrate in Minneola which is basically a crossroads with a gas station, a post office, some agricultural establishments and a few houses. The name incidentally derives from the names of the wives of the town’s first settlers – Minnie Davis and Ola Watson. Then in a super fast blast with a tailwind we arrived at the legendary Dodge City in seemingly no time. Founded in 1872 around the time that the railroad arrived, Dodge City has a fascinating history. As an important cattle town the drovers quickly left their mark on the town leading to it becoming known as the wildest town in the west. Famous lawmen including Wyatt Earp and Batt Masterton who in his life was also a professional gambler, journalist, army scout and an authority on prize fighting, were hired to bring law back onto the streets.

We received an excellent welcome on arrival at our hotel where bottles of ice cold water and gift bags were handed out as we checked in. Closer inspection of my gift bag revealed the perfect accessory for tonight’s dinner. Patience readers, all will be revealed – literally - in due course. After completing the usual end of ride routine i.e. washing of cycling kit and self, Pete and I went in search of refreshment, specifically some beer. We arrived at a nearby bar and placed our order. The barkeep asked us if were going to pay cash or open a tab, adding that if it was a tab she didn’t want to have to chase after us and beat the debt out of us. It seems that round here they still administer justice in the old-fashioned way! As it transpired we had a great time and were soon in conversation with several of the local worthies who were lining the bar. Yet again our British accents and our cycling activities were the ideal openers for a spot of parley with the local people. I have to say that they couldn’t have been nicer and genuinely interested in what we were doing. I could easily have spent a lot more time communing with them. Sadly, we had to leave – after paying our dues in full of course, as we had to get ready for tonight’s dinner at the intriguingly named ‘I Don’t Care Sports Bar.’

Captain Century does the Can-can

Now readers, I have a scoop for you. Included in the gift bag we received from the hotel was a red ladies garter. Dodge City still has a Can-can show and the garter is symbolic of it. I was led to believe that I was required to dress appropriately for the dinner so back in my bedroom I hitched up my trouser leg and donned said garter. It was best described as a close fit! Anyway in a moment of madness at dinner and in the absence of any dancing ladies, I took it upon myself to preform a little number for the team, stood up on a chair and gave it my all. Judging by the whoops, whistles, cat-calls and even requests for ‘more’ it seems I may have inadvertently stumbled on to a new role in life. But what’s a good ride and a hearty dinner without a little fun! I’m told that photographs will soon be available for sale on a website near you!

USA Tour Stage 17: Guymon, OK to Liberal, KS (40 Miles)

Click here for route flyby

The cast of today’s story include a donkey, a hooker and a tin man! Today was also notable for a number of other reasons. First it was a short stage, only 40 miles. Second it was the last leg of the seemingly never-ending 210-mile long straight which started two days ago. And lastly, and most importantly, a tailwind was a-blowin’; yay! Last night we had a couple of minor thunderstorms, the second of which woke me at 1:30 am with hail drumming against my bedroom window. I got up to have a look and the sky was being lit up by distant lightning flashes and I could see a few golf-ball sized hailstones bouncing in the parking lot with a small river flowing through it. A reasonably spectacular and unexpected entertainment. By breakfast time, signs of the storm had largely disappeared, just a few puddles on the ground and air which felt clean and clear but much more humid than yesterday.

As this was a short day we didn’t set off until 9:00am but nevertheless I was still awake at my usual hour of 5:30am so I used the time to do some background research on the Interweb, the results of which I hope will feature in the book I’ll be writing about the tour when I’ve finished. Let me just say that I unearthed some fascinating social history commentaries from the 1920’s through to the late 1950’s which explained a few things that have piqued my interest on the ride so far.

Unusually, we all left the hotel together in one large group and headed down the road. I found myself alongside Emil and as we wound it up together we progressed right through the group becoming the leaders on the road. With the aid of the wind and on yet more smooth tarmac we were soon zipping along effortlessly at nearly 25mph. What fun! As we whizzed along I spotted my first nodding donkey, which like all the others I saw today, was asleep. Nevertheless the silhouette of that distinctive solitary beam against the skyline was, for me, a memorable sight. The countryside in this part of Oklahoma is big and expansive. But it is also subtly different and has a more managed feel to it. This is very much cattle country with large ranges of grass stretching in every direction. How I longed to be able to stand about 10-20 feet off the ground and gaze into the distance. That would have really given me the chance to properly appreciate the scale of the place.

As I rode along I found myself reflecting on the last three days riding in these flatlands. What I have seen has reminded me of the constant tussle between humans and nature. Further west it seemed to me that with straightened economic circumstances, nature has the upper hand. There were more derelict and abandoned properties along the roadside and those that were still lived in seemed to be finely balanced in terms of their future. Nature is reclaiming the earth. As we rode east, the land took on a much more industrial feel with stock farming on a massive scale. Fewer dwellings, but more that look well-kept. And in between the towns, clusters of small to medium sized buildings and facilities providing the essential infrastructure for the industry. But everywhere I looked I was reminded that winning a living from the land here is not easy. Above all, I wished that I had the time and the talent to photograph and capture some of the scenes that I saw. This has surely already been done but I would have loved to record my own personal interpretations (in black and white) on this place in a way that I struggle to find with words.

We were making such good speed that we arrived at the very recently opened (i.e. minutes before) Crossroads Cycling Pop-Up Diner in record time. This was located in Hooker, a place whose name caused much mirth and merriment within the group. Recognising a good business opportunity when they see one, the Hookers had thrown open their doors to welcome us. Now before you go getting the wrong idea readers, allow me to explain. The town is named after John (Hooker) Threikeld who it is said got his nickname from the Civil War General “Fighting Joe” Hooker. Others say he was named after an old cattleman on the nearby Beaver River. Then there are those who assert that he was a skilled cattle roper – a hooker. But whatever the origin, there is no doubt about the provenance of the town. By all accounts, Hooker was a striking person, a big man with raven black hair and eyes, resembling some say, an eagle. His features were enhanced by several gold teeth and his habit of wearing large diamond rings. Hooker died aged 92 in 1938 in Redondo Beach, which I rode through before the start of the tour.

Leaving Hooker and the Hookers to their own devices we carried on east. Emil rode off into the the distance to meet his wife at the hotel. Pete and I linked up with Mary, one of the tour crew and rode together over the State Line out of Oklahoma and into Kansas. We made the obligatory stop for a photograph and then as we arrived at our destination in Liberal we were able to engage in a bit of sightseeing. The Route Sheet had noted that the Liberal Air Museum was worth visiting so that‘s exactly what we did. With over 100 aircraft spanning 90 years of aviation history on display, this is one of the country’s largest air museums. Almost every type of aircraft was on display, from small home built kit planes to relatively modern military jets. Liberal has a long association with aviation. It was a pilot training base during the Second World War and subsequently a factory for the manufacture of light aircraft.

Having satisfied our appetites for aviation we agreed that it was time to satisfy our stomachs with some lunch. After signing off the stage roster at our hotel we decided to eschew the more usual fare on offer from the chain eateries and headed back into Liberal in search of something more homely. Mary made some enquiries at a florists, as you do, and we then found ourselves at a small family-run Mexican establishment. Although from the outside it looked somewhat unprepossessing, once we crossed the threshold the three riders and their bikes were warmly welcomed, cold drinks were proffered and we were soon tucking into some tasty dishes. The CV and I had a very nice shrimp burrito. Normally I am cautious about eating shellfish so far from the sea in a month without an ‘R’ in it. Although I am sure the shrimp had been frozen it was presented in a delicious sauce and an extremely fresh and surprisingly light tortilla. Satisfaction indeed!

With time on our hands we went in search of Liberal’s other main attraction, the Dorothy House. Yes, Liberal is The Land of Oz. So we walked on the Yellow Brick Road, watched out for Cowardly Lion, posed with the Tin Man and flirted with other assorted characters. And a great deal of fun was had by all. Just for once it was nice to have some leisure time off the bike and mooch around. Dinner this evening was a catered barbecue organised by Itchytoo. And guess who joined us? Dorothy!



There’s a rumour going round that after leaving Liberal tomorrow there might be a bend or two in the road and even, just possibly, a junction! We’ll also be heading through country to a city that has a lot of history. I can’t wait!!

I’d like to add a little postscript to today’s report and thank everyone who’s sent me messages of support and encouragement. I really enjoy switching on my iPad after each day’s stage and viewing these. It gives me a real lift. I am sorry that I don’t have the time to respond to them all individually but I want you to know that I am really grateful for the emails, messages, thumbs up, hearts, likes, kudos and so forth. It means a lot and I hope you are enjoying my ramblings here. I would also like to thank everyone who has sponsored me for the Green Light Trust. The charity does some spectacular work helping people to better understand the natural environment and enhance and enrich their lives and lifestyles. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought over the last few days, as you might have sensed from my writings above. So, if you haven’t made a donation yet please, pretty please, think about doing so. There’s a link at the top right of this page.

Until tomorrow…

USA Tour Stage 16: Dalhart, TX to Guymon ,OK (72 Miles)

Click here for route flyby

Well, this seems to be habit forming – riding long, straight roads into the wind. Today’s straight set a new record – 49 miles from the edge of Dalhart to the edge of Texhoma. All with a head or shoulder wind. The Fabs linked up with another team to form an extended pace line which made the riding easier, mush easier. Both physically and mentally. It was great to see us all riding in a line, sharing out the work efficiently. I occasionally have a tendency to go off the front a bit hard and have come to rely on Pete to keep me in check. Speeding up at the front of the line is considered poor etiquette so, fellow riders, if I was ever guilty of this then I apologise whole heartedly. My excuse is that without significant hills back home in East Anglia, I have got used to riding solo on long exposed roads.









I remember a story about the Belgian rider, Freddy Maertens, who twice won the World Professional Road Race Championships (in 1976 and 1981). Apparently, he used to get up in the early morning, feed, get ready for a ride and then step outside. Next he would work out which way the wind was blowing and set off riding as hard as he could with a tailwind. He would ride flat out until he was totally knackered and then guess what? He would turn around and ride home into the headwind!! Freddy had an extremely successful career as a pro – his achievements might have been even greater had his racing not coincided with the best years of Eddy Merckx. Freddy was one of my inspirations when I started riding seriously as a teenager and in my early 20’s.

Anyway, let’s get back to today’s ride. After stopping, literally in the middle of nowhere, to take a picture of a cowboy we carried on along the road to Stratford, which I am guessing The Bard would probably have been underwhelmed by had he been able to drop in. Stratford was the latest location secured by Crossroads Cycling Pop-up Diners Inc. To ring the changes Paula had provisioned it with some lovely sweet nectarines. Even the labels were edible – a Texas delicacy? Something unexpected happened to me here. I met the late Henry John Deutschendorf Jr’s cousin. Yes, I did indeed. What’s that I hear you say? Well, Henry John Deutschendorf Jr. was better known as John Denver, the singer songwriter who tragically died while flying his experimental plane in 1997. Of course I have no way of verifying the ‘cousins’ claim but a look into his eyes was returned with an unwavering stare and his handshake was Texas firm.

At 50 miles we left Texas – our route north-east meant that we only clipped a corner. Now it was into Oklahoma. Subtly, the countryside around us was changing. Yes, still a lot of cattle territory but also signs of a new crop – wind turbines spinning gently and gracefully. Another memory of East Anglia, particularly Norfolk. I also had a brief vision of Don Quixote astride his horse Rocinante accompanied by his companion Sancho Panza, tilting at windmills. It’s the heat, readers! I must have been in the sun far too long. There were other clues too to the nature of life in these parts. Huge billboards advertising water drilling services, wind pumps and irrigation pipes all pointed to the importance of that most precious of resources.

In record time we arrived at our destination, Guymon, which has branded itself as the “Queen City of the Panhandle”. The Oklahoma Panhandle is the northwest portion of the State. Look at a map and you’ll understand. I’ve looked at a map of tomorrow’s route. Can you guess what I’ve seen? Answers in an email please ….

USA Tour Stage 15: Tucumcari, NM to Dalhart, TX (96 Miles)

Click here for route flyby

I can sum up today with three words: straight, flat, wind! Straight refers to the road which stretched endlessly to the horizon. And when I eventually reached the horizon it stretched on again to the next horizon. And on to the next. As far as I can work out from looking at Ride with GPS the first straight was 38 miles long before it curved gently on to another shorter straight which was ‘only’ 26 miles long. The terrain was generally flat with only a few fluctuations. This meant that I could see for at leat 10 miles in every direction.

Today we were also riding into a headwind. I have an app (Windsock) that steals my Strava data and does some clever stuff with the weather data to produce a graphic and some analysis that told me that I had ridden in to a 5-10 mph headwind for 77% of today’s ride. That may not seem particularly windy but be assured on those straights it certainly increased the workload, especially as I was still recovering from yesterday’s 110-mile stage.

Today we recruited a session player into The Fabs. Greg is from Oklahoma and will be with us for a couple of weeks. He is reasonably familiar with this territory – we’ll be in Oklahoma tomorrow – and has slotted in nicely. I say ‘slotted in’ because riding a pace line where we share out the work is the most efficient way to counter a headwind. With a road racing background, Greg is clearly a strong rider and well-used to through-and-off’s. So, it’s nice to be a quartet once more.

Crossroads Cycling’s Pop-up Diner Pecan Pies - yummy

Rather like yesterday, there is a dearth of facilities in this area. We passed the last shop and restrooms at 25 miles. From then on we were reliant on the Crossroads Pop-up Alfresco Diners. Today, They were conveniently located at 29 and 65 miles on the stage. Riding on long roads in flat country can become quite monotonous so I am always on the lookout for ‘excitement’. Anything to break the stupor. My reverie was broken by Pete’s bike (a Specialised) which tried to mate with the CV and gave us both quite a shock. Fortunately the CV resisted the amorous advances of the Spesh and Pete and I were both able to maintain our dignity. Now I’m guessing readers, that some of you are wondering what the heck I’m writing about. Well, we had wheel contact which in many situations is devastating, frequently leading to rider road rash as riders and bikes slide along the tarmac.

The major landmark of the day was at 54 miles when we rode our of New Mexico and into The Lone Star State, Texas. There was a novel stone sign, complete with bullet holes, top welcome us. I’m claiming that the bullet holes are authentic; other riders may (will) disagree!

As we rode into the State it became obvious that we were in cattle country. A succession of livestock trucks and trains passed us. Greg told me that there 84 (empty) cattle wagons being towed behind the two engines. That implies one heck of a lot of steak. I’m sure that you’d like to know that the Annual Cattle Review for 2017 recorded 12.3 million head of cattle. That equates to just less than half a cow for every person in the State. Fascinating! Approaching Dalhart we passed a couple of gigantic cattle feeder stations where the livestock are brought for fattening before going to the slaughterhouse. I have never seen so many cows in one place in my life. As I stopped to take a picture the animals in the nearest pen strolled over to have a good look at me. I’m sure the fascination was mutual. The other giveaway was the aroma. The smell of methane was in the air. While I’m in trivial facts mode I can report that on average 1 beef cow produces about 200 litres of methane per day. That is a lot of farting. Now, I can sense the inevitable question, so here’s the answer. The average human farts between 0.5 and 2 litres of methane per day. I bet you never thought you’d be reading stuff like this in a cycling blog. And for the sake of completeness I have no idea what cyclists produce but based on my observations from the back of the pace line I’d say it’s above the human average and probably less than that of a cow. Let’s leave it there!!

Well, that’s all helped to pass the time, a major goal for today. Combatting the mental stress of riding with relatively little stimulation was the toughest part of the ride. Arriving at Dalhart, which has the feel of a frontier town about it, gave me a huge lift so Pete and I adjourned to the nearest Dairy Queen to ‘celebrate’ with a vanilla milkshake. Unfortunately, the guy on the counter was operating solo and appeared to work at only one speed – reverse so we had to wait for our protein infusion a tad longer than we would have wished. Once we had recharged ourselves we headed over to check in at our hotel. Rumours of steak for dinner are almost certainly true. And guess what? We’ve got more straight roads tomorrow. Will we break the 38-mile record? I hope not …

USA Tour Stage 14: Las Vegas to Tucumcari, NM (110 Miles)

Click here for route flyby

Today was a big day for several reasons as you will discover if you read on. We left Las Vegas in the usual cool early morning air. The weather forecast was telling us that today was going to be hot and within half an hour I could feel the temperature rising. The Route Sheet and Paula’s commentary at the Route Rap gave an indication of what we were going to face. The key words were “No restrooms or services for 74 miles.” Written in bold which is usually a clue for some pretty serious hazards along the route. So it seemed that today’s comfort breaks might involve a rattlesnake check…!

Like our last two stages, we left Las Vegas heading upwards. Unlike the last two stages the ascent was very gentle – almost imperceptible. We were still at 6,500 feet so my lungs got their early morning workout. One thing I noticed immediately was the greenness of the vegetation so I guessed there must be marginally more rainfall here. I did see more damp watercourses and even a few streams with water which reinforced my thinking. This was cattle country and what country it was. Emil, who I was riding with at the start said it reminded him of being at sea – vast oceans of scrub grass stretching for miles in every direction. I spotted a couple of buzzards (I think) circling above the roadside looking for breakfast, but no albatrosses.

As is often the case when I’m riding with on good roads with few hazards or traffic, my mind tends to wander in random directions. Emil’s comment triggered vague memories of some Coleridge’s Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner:

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

I tried to sing the lines that I could remember to the tune of Jerome Moross’s soundtrack to the film ‘The Big Country’. Now readers, bear with me. This might seem a pretty avant-garde thing to do or even rather eccentric behaviour but what I’m trying to convey here is what I was seeing and how it made me feel in my heart. Riding through some amazing territory, the sweeping strings and pulsating brass of the soundtrack just seemed so right. Today I felt like a pioneer, exploring a vast new landscape, soaring along just above the tarmac like the albatross over the ocean. The long, long straight roads punctuated with gently rolling hillocks were just so invigorating.

In seemingly no time at all we reached the first SAG and I was snapped out of my reverie. Standing by the roadside waiting for riders to arrive was Paula. And I her hand was a sign, a very special sign. For today we had all completed the first 1,000 miles of the tour. A landmark moment and I was thrilled to see the joy and happiness on the faces of my fellow riders. So I’m just going to say “Well done us!” I was so happy that I even tried reprising my little ditty but fortunately no one heard me.

With an air of satisfaction we rolled out of the SAG and continued on our way. At around the 35 mile mark we swung round a bend and, totally unexpectedly, the most magnificent view to the plains below opened up in front of us. This marked the start of a stupendous descent, dropping over 1,000 feet over the next 5 miles. Enough of a drop in altitude to make my ears pop. Ahead of us lay a vast plain, framed by rust-red tree covered cliffs. And stretching away as far as my eyes could see, was the road we would be following. I experienced something that I’m not that well known for – speechlessness.

Reaching the bottom of the descent we carried on along a smooth, gently downhill trajectory and with a good tailwind we spun along at an easy 20-25mph. With a small uphill bump we reached the second SAG where we enjoyed an early alfresco lunch, including those yummy peanut butter and jelly sarnies that I told you about a few days ago. Just the fuel for the hungry cyclists. With the temperature building, it was hard to resist the temptation to linger and snag a second sarnie but we needed to press on and make as much progress as possible before the temperature rose too high.

Ahead of us lay something that several riders had mentioned in rather hushed tones over breakfast. A climb known as The Wall. No one seemed quite sure what it would involve and attempts to zoom in on the route profile didn’t help much. Just the name seemed to be enough to invoke a tremor in some of my fellow riders. What was certain was that we would reach The Wall at mile 67. Pete and I were riding together at this point and ahead of us we could see some cliffs rising steeply to, we guessed, about 1,000 feet. There even seemed to be a road line. Surely not. And, indeed not. The road turned at the last minute and we rode parallel to the cliffs before eventually turning towards them and a cleft in the rock face. I could then see the road rising up and it didn’t look to severe, about 700-800 yards for perhaps one third of a mile. Not a particularly testing ascent. What I did discover was that it wasn’t the gradient that was the issue, it was the heat. As I rode up the narrow, very hot gorge I felt like a piece of toast in a toaster. Fortunately I popped out the top just nicely crisp and not burnt!

There was a nice surprise at the top because I met Phil, one of the riders, and Rick and his wife. Rick doubles as the tour mechanic. Phil was leaving the tour today, getting a lift from Rick and wife. Rick will be back in about a week’s time. I had chatted with Phil over breakfast and he seemed a bit subdued. Partly I sensed because he was leaving and also because he wasn’t sure if he would have the time to ride as far as The Wall. Well he did and I was pleased to see him again, to shake his hand and wish him well. Chapeau Phil!

Emerging from the toaster, another 10 miles took us to the final SAG of the day and, that rare facility on today’s stage – Restrooms! They temperature had risen significantly now – my Garmin was suggesting 35C/95F (40C/104F in direct sunlight) – so I sought out a cooling ice cream and an ice cold drink in the store. The final 30 miles to Tucumcari were tough – long, rolling straights (one measured 10 miles), heat which collected in the furnaces between the hillocks, no shade and a hot side wind. This was very much about riding within my limit, especially as we have another long at tomorrow.

The final ascent in the full heat of the day was quite a challenge – physically and mentally. Pete and I eventually arrived at the top in Tucumcari with our water bottles empty and we landed on the first gas station we passed like crows landing on carrion, much to the amusement of the cashier and the apparent disgust of at least one customer who clearly wasn’t a connoisseur of hot, sweaty, lycra clad cyclists!  Then it was a short pedal to our hotel where I rode straight in through the doors to the reception desk to check in. An ice bucket full of cold bottles of beer was ready and waiting. Then after I had whetted my whistle it was time for a shower.  This had been quite a tough and long (110 mile) stage but a rewarding one. And once I’d showered I felt pretty good. NO, I actually felt really good. So good that more words from the Rhyme came to me:

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze –
On me alone it blew.

Chatting about the ride after dinner I learnt that much of the country we had ridden through today was seen in the film ‘No Country for Old Men’ starting Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin and Tommy Lee Jones. So if you want to get a better feel for the scenery watch the film. I have and it’s really rather good.