Summer Trip V

"...its about the journey, not the destination..."

Dramatic sculptures by some rural artist in Kansas. Look closely at some of the labels on the sculptures. 

     One of the most intriguing aspects of motorcycle touring are the unexpected twists and turns that happen on every trip. You can plan, prepare your bike, make all of your reservations for hotels, and even restaurants, but unforeseen events can throw all of the preparation in the trash. It happens on every trip. On a bike you are vulnerable to rain, snow, heat, cold, flooding, drought, bridge collapses, road closures and many other factors. What matters is how you handle these challenges.

Jeri's Kitchen in Kingman Kansas. Good lunch.

     Another beautiful day. Certainly it would be hot later, but first thing in the morning the air felt cool, refreshing. I was surprised. A simple plan for the day. On this beautiful Sunday I would ride north out of Garden City in an effort to get off of main roads. All of the roads in western Kansas are pretty straight, but some are main transportation routes west and east, while others are a little off the beaten path. My route was north on US 83 to Scott City where I would make a left onto KS 96 towards the Colorado border. Then continue on CO 96 to Eads CO where I pick up US 287 to US 40. West on US 40/287 to Aroya CO where I turn onto CO 94 going west to Colorado Springs. Easy!

Just outside of Scott City KS. Its impossible for me to capture the sheer size of western  Kansas.   

      The bike was running perfectly. The tires were still an issue, but by keeping the speed down, and limiting the exploring, I felt sure I could reach Colorado Springs OK. As I traveled across western Kansas I became amazed at the distances, the agricultural wealth spread out on both sides of the road for mile upon mile. Two years ago I traveled across the US just below the Canadian border from Michigan to western North Dakota. I think you have to travel across America as I am doing to truly appreciate her wealth and majesty.

City park area in Tribune KS. Nobody out and about.

     I took my morning break in Tribune KS. They had a nice recreational facility with tennis courts and a beautiful pool, which no one was using. It was very hot! I called my wife and spoke to her and a friend of hers who was visiting from Arizona. All was right with the world. Only 16 miles to the Colorado border.

The Colorado border along KS 96, soon to be CO 96 towards Towner CO.  The topography was soon to change.

     In this area the eastern part of Colorado was much like the very western part of Kansas. Then, within 8 miles or so of the border, I noticed a change. There was a line on the horizon, and the road did not simply stretch into the distance. I had come to the end of the Great Plains.

Historical marker about the Sand Creek Massacre, and the location of the death of my battery! No shade, about 100 degrees.

     Now within 30 miles of the turn onto US 287 to head north towards Colorado Springs I came upon  a historical marker. Once again, as a former Social Studies teacher, I was forced to turn around and take a look, and some pictures.

A Native American hero who tried to make peace, and  then was killed. 

     The marker told the story of the Sand Creek Massacre where a group of peaceful Native Americans were slain by an overzealous US Army Colonel John Chivington. I took individual pictures of each display so that I could decide which panels to include in the blog. I then got back on the bike and turned the key. The dashboard lit up as usual. Then, when I hit the starter, all the lights went out and complete silence ensued. What the heck? Clearly the battery was dead. Of course it shouldn't be since I'd ridden it every day since the previous Wednesday, for over 1,500 miles. I had put a charger on the bike before I left to make sure I was leaving with a completely charged battery.

History of the area from 1700 to 1861.

     Now what? I was really in the "middle of nowhere" with a completely dead bike. One of the things I carry on the bike is a small "jumper box" that my older daughter got for me one year at Christmas. I feverishly removed the seat, struggled with the side panel to get to the battery and then struggled to attached the clips to the battery posts.  This took several minutes, several attempts ( no shade, baking hot sun, temperature in the neighborhood of 100, the nearest town 5 miles away, a long walk in that heat! ). Finally I got it attached. Turn the key, take a breath, hit the start button. The bike started right up! I quickly put the jumper box away, put the seat on, put my helmet on, and lit out for the next town, Eads CO about 5 miles away.

1861 to 2007.

     Once I got to Eads I stopped at a convenience store/restaurant, left the bike running, went in and asked if a Walmart was there or near there. I was told there was one in Lamar, 30 miles in the wrong direction. I was also told there was "nothing between here and Colorado Springs, " which was over 150 miles away. I tried calling the Walmart to see if they had a battery the would fit my bike, but was left on hold. The bike was running in the heat, and I was just sitting there waiting for someone to answer the phone. I decided just to head towards Colorado Springs. On the highway the bike was running fine, the engine temperature was fine as long as I was moving. What the heck.

Town named for the US Army Colonel who "....led an infamous attack on a peaceful  Cheyenne and Arapaho encampment  on Sand Creek..."

     The next 2 1/2 hours were very stressful. I motored along at about 60-65 mph, listening to the sound of the engine. I felt every vibration of the bike trying to detect the slightest change. I reached Aroya CO and turned onto CO 94, which turned out to be a pretty rough stretch of road, increasing the tension. In that stretch alone it was 72 miles to "services." Another twenty or so miles to Colorado Springs beyond that. My focus became simply to reach the motel where I had a place to sleep, and plan on what course of action to take the next day to get a battery. Believe it or not I made it to the motel without a hitch. A deep sigh of relief. Perhaps the day had been a bit more of an adventure than I would have liked.