Friday April 30^th Quality Inn. Rawlings, Wyoming

09.00

A hectic couple of days. Our journey from Breckenridge to Kremmling was fairly uneventful apart from being buffeted by very strong winds for the last two hours. The wind was swirling through mountain passes and constantly changing direction so your speed could change from 25 mph down to 5 and back again in a matter of minutes, which is a bit dangerous in traffic.

Kremmling was our recommended stop for the day and we got there in time for a late lunch with a pint of Droptop Amber, the best beer I’ve had since coming to America. In the diner we got talking to an man who worked at a hotel in Hot Sulphur Springs 17 miles away and we decided that it might be smart to make for there, as the next day’s weather forecast looked pretty bad. We had the wind behind us and did the 17 miles in just over an hour , doing 76 miles for the day which was pretty good going.

Hot Sulphur Springs is tiny. Dee, the woman who runs the Ute Reservation Motel, also runs The Depot, the only bar and restaurant in town and she seems to have an interest in the Springs themselves as she seemed determined to get us to buy some discounted tickets. I couldn’t think of a polite way of saying “can’t be arsed” so I said we’d think about it.

The Depot was fun although the food wasn’t great. Dinner consisted of chilli con carne (or “find the meat” as they presumably call it around here) and two hot dogs; we have lost all shame when it comes to food. Another decent beer , a dark ale called Woolly Booger. They had a pool table, table football and a weird ten foot long version of shove halfpenny, all free. At the bar, the manager was lecturing a penitent looking old soak, ruefully sipping from a bottle of Bud lite, about some altercation that had obviously taken place the previous evening. I would have loved to have found out what it was about but all we know is that “the other guy” is barred for life.

The hotel claimed to have Wi-FI and it did work if you stood on the sink in the bathroom but in the end we had to go to the lobby with our lap-tops to send e-mails. The man we had seen in the Kremmling diner was sitting at the computer there, watching an old episode of Perry Mason and doing some strange form of home dentistry. It involved something long and metallic and lots of gurgling. Best not to look. He was meant to be the hotels IT expert but when I told him about the Wi-Fi problem ,his reaction was to say “beat’s me “ and get back to his root canal work.

***

We woke up yesterday morning to six inches of snow with more still falling. The forecast for the next couple of days was more of the same. Deep gloom. We went back to The Depot for breakfast and put the word out that we were looking for a lift and were prepared to pay. We then went to the Sherriff’s office and asked for advice. Everyone was very sympathetic and said they would do what they can but it didn’t look good. We trooped back to the hotel lobby and were checking out car hire firms and local community websites to see if there was anything that might be of use. It looked increasingly depressing and we seemed set to be in Hot Sulphur Springs for a while. How many hot dogs can one person eat?

Donna the part-time receptionist at the hotel was all sympathy but little practical advice until Mike mentioned that we were prepared to pay.

"How much? - just out of interest "

Mike said $50 to Walden, fifty miles away, our destination for the day.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes"

"I've got a bike rack in my van, I could take you"

I decided to push our luck and said we really wanted to get to Rawlings, beyond the current snow belt. Donna was up for this and we agreed a fare of $100 which suited everyone. So with one bound we were free. We had to wait till Donna finished work at 11.30 and there was a comic interlude where Mike and Donna had to wrestle with the odd deckchair- like bike rack for about ten minutes but we were away by twelve.

The journey took four hours. The snow was very heavy in some places and completely absent in others. As we crossed over into Wyoming, the mountains gradually gave way to huge plains, a bit like Kansas but with a wonderful mountain backdrop. It was difficult to know where the land ended and the sky began and, with a dusting of snow, it was incredibly beautiful. You could see far enough in any direction to notice completely different weather patterns. Clear blue skies to our right and heavy snow laden clouds to our left. It was the most spectacular scenery I’ve seen on the trip and being able to see it from the comfort of a car was a real luxury.

We stopped at Walden for lunch. Donna had said she was on a juice diet but weakened temporarily and had a bowl of soup, a bowl of refried beans, a plate of salad and a slice of chocolate cream pie. Good for her. She was great fun in the car, keeping up an entertaining stream of conversation throughout the journey. She was born and raised in Arkansas which she had left because of the heat. She much preferred Colorado because of the scenery and the climate “although they don’t know how to cook okra here. I do miss my gumbo”. She had about eight different jobs including house- and pet-sitting, hotel work, and pizza delivery. Like virtually everyone we meet she had once worked in real estate. She was a bit of a new- ager, into massage, aromatherapy and detox treatments, and was halfway through her first novel. This had a complicated plot about a young orphan girl, brought up by a kind brothel owner who kept the nature of her business secret from the girl. She dreams of one day getting to meet Oprah (it might have been okra, I was in the back and dozing a bit at this point) and finally achieves this after a series of hilarious misunderstandings. She goes on to inherit the brothel and turns it into a school. Mike was sitting in the front so he has more details if you want them.

We drove through a real windstorm just before we got to Rawlings with clouds of dusty snow being blown across the road. You could feel the car being buffeted and it didn’t bear thinking about what it would have been like on a bike. We got there at just after 4 and, after taking a photo, said goodbye to Donna who just turned around and headed straight back. A round trip of about 250 miles. She did us a real favour and we are very grateful.

When we checked in, the receptionist said that another Michael Sheahan was already registered in the motel. Mike was worried that people might be cashing in on our names as international adventurers. I saw it more as an opportunity of using someone else’s bar tab.

Dinner was in the “Howl and Hoot “ restaurant in the hotel. It seemed full of construction workers , a lot of whom are staying here. It promises Karaoke on Friday (today) and I am working on Mike to do his Amy Winehouse which has to be seen to be believed. I had meatloaf and mash followed by chocolate brownies and ice cream, washed down with a mug (about a pint and half) of Fat Tire , not a beer I’d recommend.. Three full meals in the day and no cycling. The wheels will start buckling soon.

Somehow, despite not cycling, yesterday was the tiredest, I think I’ve felt over the whole trip. I’m not sure why. The previous day had been hard and it was quite hectic all day, trying to get ourselves sorted. Whatever the reason I collapsed into bed at nine and slept soundly for nine. hours.

Today’s weather forecast is still pretty bad with more snow showers predicted so we’re having a rest day here and will head north tomorrow, which looks a lot better.

Tuesday April 27^th, The Great Divide Lodge, Breckenridge, Colorado

Following a recommendation from our hotel receptionist, dinner last night was in the South Park Bowl in Fairplay. That is to say we had dinner in a bowling alley. During a local league game, with loud piped rock music in the background. And the strange thing was, it was really good fun. The place gets its name because Fairplay is in the South Park Basin in Colorado where the animated TV series is based. The manager was a New Yorker and a real hustler. He had more or less talked us into sharing a rack of barbecued beef ribs before we sat down. Basically this meant we each got half of one side of a cow to eat. I thought he looked Irish ( the manager not the cow) but Mike said he didn’t have enough hair (he has some theory that all Irish people are hairy) and said he was Italian. I wanted to settle it but saying “ I think you’re Irish but my friend says your bald so you must be Italian “ didn’t really appeal. . So we’ll never know. The ribs were great and we had cherry pie afterward ,also excellent. The people taking part in the bowling, including Seamus Bertorelli, looked like they were having a great time.

I noticed last night that something strange is happening to my speech pattern again . I have dropped the over- English “spiffing” “ “cracking “ etc. and have turned into Del Boy Trotter, greeting every offer or arrival of food with “lovely jubbly!”. Why? The waitresses look at me as if I’m deranged, which possibly I am. Maybe it’s a result of being at altitude.

We didn’t set out this morning till eight o’ clock because we wanted it to warm up a bit. It was still below zero when we set off but we were well wrapped up and it was a bright sunny day. We had 11 miles up to the top of Hoosier Pass and then the 12 screaming miles down. I had a problem almost immediately in that I found that I could hardly see. This has been developing over the last few days. It’s either the sun, the glare of the snow or just being at high altitude. Whatever it is , my eyes were very red and sore and seeing was becoming more and more difficult. I had something a bit like this in the Pyrenees a few years ago and had bought prescription sunglasses to counter-act it but they proved to be ineffective. In the end I managed by wearing two pairs of Mike’s sunglasses at the same time. Not ideal but it worked. If you take into account that Mike is slightly hard of hearing, we were probably not the best prepared pair of cyclists going up Hoosier Pass. The main climb is about 4 miles and it took us just under an hour. Again it was long and gradual rather than a steep roller-coaster and I found it reasonably ok. The views on the way up are wonderful but the summit is a bit of a let-down. It’s on a bend in the road which stops you getting a really good view in any direction. Hoosier Pass is on the Continental divide which means that water on one side flows into the Atlantic and on the other into the Pacific. Mike suggested a simple biological experiment to see if this was true but I did not think this appropriate.

The first five miles downhill were every bit as bad as I feared and probably the scariest cycling I’ve ever done. Really steep, hair pin bends, the prospect of ice on the road and signs everywhere saying “Beware Falling Rocks”. Lovely Jubbly!

It gets easier after the first five and the rest of the ride into Breckenridge is actually quite pleasant. You cannot really say the same of the place itself. It’s a very well to do skiing resort with lots of shopping malls, bijou little shops and restaurants all done up in fake Wild West timber facades. A pretty hellish sort of place actually though fortunately its now out of season and fairly quiet . When we asked the chap in the tourist office for somewhere decent to eat, not a fast-food place, he replied “Breckenridge doesn’t have fast-food places” . He pointed us towards the Breckenridge Brewing Corporation which was reasonable enough although our rather surly waitress clearly thought we were a bit infra dig. Hadn’t she ever seen anyone wearing a balaclava, a baseball cap and two pairs of dark glasses before?

We’re staying in the Great Divide Lodge, very swanky but reasonably priced as it’s out of season. The receptionist who turns out be from Shrewsbury seemed none too pleased when we identified her as English. She dropped her American accent but has probably added ten dollars to the bill.

This afternoon I went out and bought what I hope is the solution to my eye problem. A really neat pair of Polaroid sunglasses that you can wear over ordinary prescription glasses. I look a bit like a white Ray Charles but I can live with that.

Dinner was roast chicken, mashed potato and corn in a gloomy basement diner, watching Arizona v Colorado in Baseball. That’s if you looked straight ahead. To your right it was LAD v NYM and to your left it was SD v FLA. Don’t ask me.

A nightcap in Brogan and Burke’s bar, full of Breckenridge’s bright young things, and then back to the hotel where I am now going to spend some time in front of a mirror singing Hit the Road Jack.

Monday April 26^th. The Riverside Hotel Fairplay Colorado

16.00

A strange 24 hours. We actually slept very well in our little log cabin, thanks to the electric blankets and Mike heroically getting up in the middle of the night to keep the stove going. However we woke up to four inches of snow which makes the early morning trip to the out-house even more stimulating. Breakfast was coffee with Bill’s bagels and cheese and the last of our own little stash of oatmeal.

The thought of another night in Guffey, rustic heaven though it is, didn’t really appeal to me but nobody in town could say for certain whether the roads to Fairplay would be clear or not. They didn’t think the snow ploughs worked Highway 9 on a Monday (another triumph for the Colorado Highway Department). In the end, with a lot of misgivings -all on my part, I knew Mike was secretly relishing the thought of sliding along on icy roads in sub-zero temperatures - we decided we’d risk it.

Then we had an incredible stroke of luck. Just as we were leaving the cabin, Joanne, the bar owner, drove up to say that Bill had managed to arrange us a lift. We spent the next hour in the saloon drinking coffee and chatting with Joanne until Holly arrived to take us all the way to Fairplay. Suddenly instead of fifty miles of hell we were cruising along in air-conditioned comfort. Being driven gives you a chance to properly take in the scenery which is, I have to admit, spectacular.

We owe a big thank you to Bill , Joanne and Holy who were all very kind and hospitable to us and genuinely concerned about our safety. Holly is a Real Estate agent and I will never hear a word spoken against these fine people again.

We arrived in Fairplay at 12,30. In the end the road was clear but it was still several degrees below zero and the wind was strong and coming towards us. Cycling would have been hellish so I was a very happy bunny. Even more so after a bowl of chilli and a pint of Guinness in O’Brogan’s bar next door. It’s about as Irish as a bar mitzvah but who cares. They were showing Avatar on big screen and I had to listen to Mike extolling its cinematic virtues but I figured he’d been denied his daily dose of masochistic pleasure so I let him enjoy himself.

The weather forecast for tomorrow is much better, which is a relief because we are heading through Hoosier Pass, the highest point on our whole journey at 11,542 feet, According to the guide book the day ends with “12 screaming miles down hill, with lots of curves, into Breckinridge”. I know where the screaming will be coming from.

Sunday April 25^th. The Honeymoon Cabin, Guffey Colorado

16.00

Yesterday

We left Pueblo at 7.30. Breakfast was in one of the nicest diners we’ve been in the whole trip, The City Diner on Santa Fe St. A temple to Betty Boop, statues and pictures of whom stared at you from every corner and crevice, it was full of character. The manager, Marina, was a real live wire and seemed to know everyone. A line of good old boys sat at the counter with their stomachs resting on it. All they really needed to say was “fill her up”. In the corner an older version of Woody Allen was reading from a well-thumbed paperback bible and making lots of notes on a yellow legal notepad. And, we both agreed, they served excellent oatmeal (it’s surprising the variation in quality you get. I’m becoming something of a connoisseur) I just have salt but here you could have cranberries, bananas, cinnamon or walnuts with it.

There’s not much to say about the trip yesterday. 46 miles. The first 20 going uphill with no wind. The rest in a howling gale but going downhill which sort of cancelled it out. Canon City is apparently famous for donkeys and we saw quite a few on the way including one very odd one, which turned out on closer inspection to be a llama. The town of Florence a few miles from Canon City, has two prisons, one state and one federal. The former looks very modern and bears a striking resemblance to the Wal-Mart in Hutchinson, Kansas.

We arrived in Canon City at one o clock. It’s basically an ugly sprawl of shops and restaurants along Highway 50. There is a small railway station where you can get a train to Royal Gorge a local beauty spot, where you can go white water rafting, whatever that is. Lunch was in Mr. Ed’s family restaurant. We both had an odd sort of roast beef and mashed potato sandwich i.e. the beef and potato is served on several slices of bread.

I asked the waitress which of the many motels she would recommend.

“I’d go to the Quality Inn. They’ve got hot tubs and there’s a K-Bob steak house next door.”

Neither really a clincher in my book

“And they’ve got their own bar and grill”

That was enough for us. It turned out to be a good choice. A bit pricier but a cut above the last few places we’ve stayed in.

A couple of pre-dinner drinks in the bar, where we met a remarkable woman called Suzanne Phipps who is currently managing a project to restore the Rialto an opera house, originally built in 1923, in Florence (the one with the prisons not the one in Italy). Suzanne, who must have been in her 70s was still looking after her 96 year old mother. She had led a very full life and seemed determined to tell us all about it but K-Bob’s awaited so we said goodbye, promising to come to the opening night of the Rialto.

K-Bobs is a large high-ceilinged room full of families having a Saturday night out. Lots of cowboy hats here, worn by both young and old. Our waitress Anna had one German and one Italian parent and was mad as a box of frogs. She kept calling us both “darling” or “love” and laughing manically. We really liked her, even though she cocked our order up. We both ordered medium rib-eye steaks but Mike got something that looked more like an under-done section of elephant leg.

We had a couple of glasses of wine with the meal and then went back to the hotel bar. This is not like us. Normally we have a couple of drinks maximum if we are cycling the next day. Maybe we were trying to block out the thought of the big climb the next day. Anyway we had a few more drinks and then discovered that the hotel had a pool room so we played a couple of exhibition games for the other guests. Well I made an exhibition of myself anyway. And so, merrily to bed.

Today

Today has been really hard work. We have only done 34 miles but have climbed to over 8,400 It’s far higher than the Appalachians but there isn’t the relentless steep roller coaster effect. Just a long (day-long) steady climb. The wind was swirling about a bit but we made pretty good progress. Give me a day in the Rockies compared to half a day in the Appalachians any day of the week. According to the guide book “you’ll feel like a high plains drifter” up here. Well yes, if you can imagine Clint Eastwood in baggy shorts and black waterproof socks. The scenery really was impressive and everything was very still. Certainly a high spot of the trip (see what I did just there).

We arrived in Guffey at 1.30. A very strange place. Population 26. (Physical exertion gets noticeably more difficult at a high altitude). Just a collection of log cabins, one of which is a bar and restaurant and one a hotel (currently closed) Some of the log cabins are rented out and, when the hotel is closed this is the only accommodation available We had rung ahead and booked one. On the way up to Guffey a battered pick-up, going in the opposite direction, had slowed down and a bearded man had shouted out “You the bikers going to Guffey?”. We said yes.

“I’m Bill, I spoke to you on the phone. I’m just going to get my chickens. See you later”

And he was gone

After a beer an burger lunch in the Freshwater Saloon, we went looking for someone to take us to the cabin. We found Bill in his workshop, a huge junk-filled shed with a blazing stove.

“Ah the bikers! Come in and have a beer”. Normally this would have been welcome but I was cold and wanted to have shower and get changed. However Bill, and his friend Karl, were watching the NASCAR race on a small TV and obviously assumed we would want to do the same. (I’d rather pull my own teeth than watch motor racing).

While we watched the race, Bill told us about our cabin. “I haven’t connected up the showers yet because it’s still pretty cold and the pipes might freeze. But there’s cold water” he gestured to two plastic containers on the floor “and you’ve got a nuclear oven to heat it up.”. Nuclear oven is Billspeak for a microwave. “and I’ve brought you some food “. He gestured to a plastic carrier bag containing two small bottles of water, two bagels and two small containers of Philadelphia cheese.

Bill also explained about the chickens. He rears them for the annual Guffey Fourth of July Chicken Fly, during which chickens are ejected from a mailbox atop a ten-foot-high platform; prizes are awarded for distance. People sponsor a chicken and pay a dollar to charity. T he current record is138 feet.

Eventually the race was over and Bill took us to the cabin. “I’ve put you in the Honeymoon Cabin”. (It’s got two single beds, another reason maybe for the low population). Bill got the stove going and the place soon started to warm up, It has a TV, which unfortunately doesn’t work and an outdoor toilet (with no water). The beds have electric blankets which Bill recommends keeping on all night ( The temperature is forecast to drop to -10 Fahrenheit tonight).

Mike had a snooze while I typed this and now we have returned to the Freshwater Saloon for dinner and to use their Wi-Fi.

Character-building is how I believe days like this are referred to.

Sunday April 25^th. The Honeymoon Cabin, Guffey Colorado

16.00

Yesterday

We left Pueblo at 7.30 Breakfast was in one of the nicest diners we’ve been in the whole trip, The City Diner on Santa Fe St. A temple to Betty Boop, statues and pictures of whom wink at you from every corner and crevice, it was full of character. The manager, Marina, was a real live wire and seemed to know everyone. A line of good old boys sat at the counter with their stomachs resting on it. All they really needed to say was “fill her up”. In the corner an older version of Woody Allen was reading from a well-thumbed paperback bible and making lots of notes on a yellow legal notepad. And they served excellent oatmeal (it’s surprising the variation in quality you get. I’m becoming something of a connoisseur) I just have salt but here you could have cranberries, bananas, cinnamon or walnuts with it.

There’s not much to say about the trip yesterday. 46 miles. The first 20 going uphill with no wind. The rest in a howling gale but going downhill which sort of cancelled it out. Canon City is apparently famous for donkeys and we saw quite a few on the way including one very odd one, which turned out on closer inspection to be a llama. The town of Florence a few miles from Canon City, has two prisons, one state and one federal. The former looks very modern and bears a striking resemblance to the Wal-Mart in Hutchinson, Kansas.

We arrived in Canon City at one o clock. It’s basically an ugly sprawl of shops and restaurants along Highway 50. There is a small railway station where you can get a train to Royal Gorge a local beauty spot, where you can go white water rafting, whatever that is. Lunch was in Mr. Ed’s family restaurant. We both had an odd sort of roast beef and mashed potato sandwich i.e. the beef and potato is served on several slices of bread.

I asked the waitress which of the many motels she would recommend.

“I’d go to the Quality Inn. They’ve got hot tubs and there’s a K-Bob steak house next door.”

Neither really a clincher in my book

“And they’ve got their own bar and grill”

That was enough for us. It turned out to be a good choice. A bit pricier but a cut above the last few places we’ve stayed in.

A couple of pre-dinner drinks in the bar, where we met a remarkable woman called Suzanne Phipps who is currently managing a project to restore the Rialto an opera house, originally built in 1923, in Florence (the one with the prisons not the one in Italy). Suzanne, who must have been in her 70s was still looking after her 96 year old mother. She had led a very full life and seemed determined to tell us all about it but K-Bob’s awaited so we said goodbye, promising to come to the opening night of the Rialto.

K-Bobs is a large high-ceilinged room full of families having a Saturday night out. Lots of cowboy hats here, worn by both young and old. Our waitress Anna had one German and one Italian parent and was mad as a box of frogs. She kept calling us both “darling” or “love” and laughing manically. We really liked her, even though she cocked our order up. We both ordered medium rib-eye steaks but Mike got something that looked more like an under-done section of elephant leg. We had a couple of glasses of wine with the meal and then went back to the hotel bar. This is not like us. Normally we have a couple of drinks maximum if we are cycling the next day. Maybe we were trying to block out the thought of the big climb the next day. Anyway we had a few more drinks and then discovered that the hotel had a pool room so we played a couple of exhibition games for the other guests. Well I made an exhibition of myself anyway. And so, merrily to bed.

Today

Today has been really hard work. We have only done 34 miles but have climbed to over 8,400 It’s far higher than the Appalachians but there isn’t the relentless steep roller coaster effect. Just a long (day-long) steady climb. The wind was swirling about a bit but we made pretty good progress. Give me a day in the Rockies compared to half a day in the Appalachians any day of the week. According to the guide book “you’ll feel like a high plains drifter” up here. Well yes, if you can imagine Clint Eastwood in baggy shorts and black waterproof socks. The scenery really was impressive and everything was very still. Certainly a high spot of the trip (see what I did just there).

We arrived in Guffey at 1.30. A very strange place. Population 26. (Physical exertion gets noticeably more difficult at a high altitude). Just a collection of log cabins, one of which is a bar and restaurant and one a hotel (currently closed) Some of the log cabins are rented out and, when the hotel is closed this is the only accommodation available We had rung ahead and booked one. On the way up to Guffey a battered pick-up, going in the opposite direction, had slowed down and a bearded man had shouted out “You the bikers going to Guffey?”. We said yes.

“I’m Bill, I spoke to you on the phone. I’m just going to get my chickens. See you later”

And he was gone

After a beer an burger lunch in the Freshwater Saloon, we went looking for someone to take us to the cabin. We found Bill in his workshop, a huge junk-filled shed with a blazing stove.

“Ah the bikers! Come in and have a beer”. Normally this would have been welcome but I was cold and wanted to have shower and get changed. However Bill, and his friend Karl, were watching the NASCAR race on a small TV and obviously assumed we would want to do the same. (I’d rather pull my own teeth than watch motor racing).

While we watched the race, Bill told us about our cabin. “I haven’t connected up the showers yet because it’s still pretty cold and the pipes might freeze. But there’s cold water” he gestured to two plastic containers on the floor “and you’ve got a nuclear oven to heat it up.”. Nuclear oven is Billspeak for a microwave. “and I’ve brought you some food “. He gestured to a plastic carrier bag containing two small bottles of water, two bagels and two small containers of Philadelphia cheese.

Bill also explained about the chickens. He rears them for the annual Guffey Fourth of July Chicken Fly, during which chickens are ejected from a mailbox atop a ten-foot-high platform; prizes are awarded for distance. People sponsor a chicken and pay a dollar to charity. T he current record is138 feet.

Eventually the race was over and Bill took us to the cabin. “I’ve put you in the Honeymoon Cabin”. (It’s got two single beds, another reason maybe for the low population). Bill got the stove going and the place soon started to warm up, It has a TV, which unfortunately doesn’t work and an outdoor toilet (with no water). The beds have electric blankets which Bill recommends keeping on all night ( The temperature is forecast to drop to -10 Fahrenheit tonight).

Mike had a snooze while I typed this up in Word and now we have returned to the Freshwater Saloon for dinner and to use their Wi-Fi.

Character-building is how I believe days like this are referred to.

Friday April 23^rd Guesthouse Inn, Pueblo Colorado.

16.00

Yesterday

A good days cycling yesterday. 51 miles during which we finally saw the last of Highway 96. We’ve been on it for four or five days and it really does get to you after a while. Out of Kansas and away from Hwy 96, there is a sense of waking up again after a long sleep. Much more traffic and lots more to look at.

There is a railway line that runs through Ordway and on it there is parked a line of empty Union Pacific cattle trucks. I started counting them when we first saw them but gave up once I got to a hundred. A good thing too because this line of cattle trucks is 25 miles long! 11 before Ordway and 14 after. Several thousands of them. An incredible sight.

Now, there are 25 miles of cattle trucks. Each truck is about 20 metres long. The trucks are triple deckers. So how many beefburgers is that?

I‘ve been thinking of tipping of Damien Hirst about these trucks. There are a few gaps here and there in the line. If he bought a section of it, slapped his name on one end, and called it “the relentless retrenchment of the id”, or something like that, he could probably sell it and make a couple of million on the deal.

Despite the alleged flatness of Kansas we were steadily rising as went through it and had reached 3900 feet as we left. This is continuing in Colorado and we are now at 4500 in Pueblo. The gradient is very slight and we are making good progress but this will of course change in the next few days as we enter the Rockies. We caught our first glimpse of them yesterday morning at Olney Springs, 11 miles from Ordway. Suddenly to our left we saw the Paramount Pictures logo or that’s what I thought before I realised it was for real. Then, quite suddenly, they were right across our line of vision. A magnificent line of snow-capped peaks. It was possible for a while just to admire the view and to forget that, all too soon, we were going to have to cycle through them.

Pueblo is a large town, pop 106,000 and the home of Damon Runyon, of Guys and Dolls fame. We found downtown fairly easily and were looking round for somewhere to eat when we spotted a postman and stopped to ask him if he could recommend somewhere. He was giving us directions to a diner several blocks away when I saw a sign over his shoulder. At first I thought it was a mirage (it was quite hot by now) but I looked again and it was definitely there . “The Shamrock Brewing Corporation” . "What about there?" I asked the postman, pointing to it.

“ Oh that's good too. In fact that's even better and they have a bar too. Yeah I forgot about the Shamrock". I could have kissed him. Within five minutes we were sitting in front of two pints of the pubs home- brewed pale ale. Within ten minutes, we were sitting in front of two more. Excellent fruity beer.

I suddenly realise that it was eight pm in Europe and the Hamburg v Fulham game was kicking off. I asked the barman if he could tune one of the myriad TV screen to ESPN. In fairness, he did try hard but when he found an Italian Seria A game between Lazio and Roma, he felt that his job was done. “There you go. Soccer. That do ya?”. I nodded meekly. You can’t have everything. Besides I was gettng regular text updates from brother Frank, happily ensconced in theAlexandra in Wimbledon.

After a good lunch in the Shamrock we headed to the Great Divide bike shop around the corner, recommended by one of the barmen, himself a keen cyclist Another excellent bike shop with really helpful staff. I got my pedals and gloves and also some magic energy beans which look like fun. Mike bought his socks and yet another shirt ,despite whingeing endlessly about having too much to carry (he’s such a poser).

The Shamrock was also a hotel but I figured that might be the death of us so we checked in to the Guesthouse (Another postman recommendation) just up the road. It’s pretty good, reasonably priced and has a free launderette- a real treat. This dhobi wallah work in the shower gets really boring.

Back to the Shamrock in the evening for a more leisurely sampling of their many excellent ales and open sandwiches. Mike retired early but I stayed on to watch the game of Texas Hold’em being played, via computer link, by a number of customers dotted around the pub. The bloke sitting next to me was pretty useless and I was impressed by the way he seemed quite relaxed at losing $2000 in one game. It took a while to realise that it was all make-believe. Anyone could join in. They give you one of the little computers, $1000 dollars in “funds” and away you go. It looks good fun and if I was surer of the rules about calling and checking I would have joined in. I would certainly have beaten the drongo next to me.

Today

Any doubts about the wisdom of having a rest day were dispelled when we got up. It was chucking it down outside and there are reports of heavy snow to the west. Hopefully this will have gone by the time we get there but tomorrow looks as if it might be a bit dodgy.

We got the laundry done while we were having breakfast,. This was a strange meal with the food provided in stages by a rather spaced-out male receptionist, wearing a pork pie hat. He seemed to remember each item individually. “I think we’ve got some butter somewhere”. “Hey you’ll probably want some cutlery” "Now where are the serviettes?" “ Let me get you some bread”. The smoke alarm went off intermittently. “That just means the toaster needs cleaning”. He told me later he was fasting as part of a detox programme, “I got myself into a bit of a mess recently”. He has a little way to go yet.

We ventured out in the rain at10.30 and headed to the old historic part of town. A small but interesting museum that reminded you again of the less than honorable way the settlers dealt with the native Americans. A visit to an excellent second-hand bookshop where I managed to get London Fields and Travels with my Aunt which should last me out for the rest of the trip. Then it was lunch time . We saw a French place but it looked a bit up itself so we gave it a miss. Not much else around so we found ourselves back at the Shamrock. Mike had fish and chips andI had the Meatloaf with Jameson’s sauce. Both pretty good. Back to the motel in pouring rain to write postcards and, in Mike’s case, to start thinking about tomorrow. In mine, trying to think of anything but.

Happily the sense of waking up after Kansas seems to have affected Mike too. This morning on my computer, I showed him the Guardian obituaries of Christopher Cazenove and John Forsythe which made clear their roles in Dynasty series. At first he claimed this was typical “Guardian commie pinko lies” but he has been very silent and rather shame-faced all day. So fingers crossed.

Wednesday April 21^st , Hotel Ordway, Ordway, Colorado

22.00

We had a drink in the Windmill Saloon before dinner last night. It differed from the Trench Bar in Eads in that it is made completely out of corrugated tin rather than that attractive tin/breeze block effect. It’s a bit like drinking in an aircraft hangar. A friendly crowd at the bar, including a group of women, something you don’t often see in bars here. On one wall a large portrait of John Wayne. I’ve seen a few of these around; I suppose he passes for royalty in these parts. On another wall an advert for a company offering a method of easily removing raccoons, and prairie dogs from your property. Basically they sell you self-igniting cans of propane which you lob down the little varmints burrows where they then explode. The cans that is. Well, probably the animals too come to think of it.

Breakfast this morning was back at the K&M where the waitress cheered us up by telling us that last week they had had hailstones the size of golf balls and that it was now the rattlesnake season.

There’s not a lot to say about today’s trip. Fairly overcast all day but the wind held off most of the time. The guide book noted a “surprise coffee stop at Haswell “ 23 miles away. The only surprise was that they didn’t sell coffee. It was just a garage with a selection of cold drinks. And that was it, the only sign of civilisation until our destination. The barren sandy soil showed why no-one would wants to live out there. As a result, today was just a long fairly boring slog.

Ordway has a proper hotel, rather than a motel. We are not allowed to bring our bikes into our room which is something we have got used to. It does make the place look a lot tidier.

We had a beer in the Columbus bar where they have more electronic dartboards (they had them in the Windmill too, darts is obviously a big Colorado thing. ) and then lunch in the “Bits and Spurs” restaurant which had wooden tiles around the room displaying the branding marks of local cattle men. I could have done without the large colour photo of a cow being branded. I ended up having an omelette.

After the usual afternoon chores we were back to the Columbus and then down the road to Martin’s Main St Restaurant. for meatloaf, mash and peas. No fast food for two days running is a bit of a result.

To Pueblo tomorrow and we are probably going to have another rest day. We need some more bike repairs (I need new pedals and a decent pair of gloves – Mike wants his bell re-tuned) and it is the last decent sized town for quite a few days. Once we are in the Rockies the average population of a town seems to be about 200 and some of them will be goats.

***

I have discovered what Mike latest little scheme is. He was googling “Colorado” a few days ago and came across a website devoted to Dynasty the 80’s TV series set in Denver. There’s been some revival of interest in the series recently as the actors who played Blake and Ben Carrington, two leading characters, have both died. Unfortunately, the site Mike came across is a sort of fanzine thing that reports events in “Dynasty land” as if they are real. Mike has totally bought into this and thinks that the Carringtons are the elite of Colorado society. What really set him going was the fact that Ben, Blake’s long lost brother (played by Christopher Cazenove) was brought up in England. Mike’s idea - Why couldn’t Blake have two long lost brothers? With Blake and Ben out of the way, who is to disprove it? He’s been working on a very dodgy looking family tree (based around the family of Lord Carrington , Thatcher's one-time foreign secretary) all evening.

“ Won’t they think it odd if you turn up on a bike, smelling a bit?” I ask, desperately trying to lure him back to earth. He replied that this was just the sort of eccentric thing an English aristocrat might do.

“what about me?

“You will be my valet, Trubshaw”.

I am in the middle of America and I suddenly feel quite alone.

Tuesday 20^th April, Travellers Lodge Eads Colorado

17.00

The Trench Bar turned out to be a breeze-block shed with a corrugated tin roof. But it was a bar and they sold quite decent Mexican food. The only customers were a few old boys sitting around a table, drinking beer from the bottle. They had a free juke-box (Country and Western only), table football and two electronic dartboards. What more can a sophisticated pair of urbanites ask for ?

Well, what they did ask for, when they were leaving, were two plastic bowls and spoons. These were needed to eat the oatmeal we cooked in the microwave oven in our hotel room the next morning,. There was nowhere in town to get any breakfast and it was 30 miles before we would reach a service station. So it has come to this, we are reduced to carrying and cooking our own oats and scavenging for our tableware So much for the five star luxury accommodation promised in the brochure.

Today’s trip has been pretty mixed but it ended well.. It started out in the same damp mist as yesterday, then after the first hour, the sky suddenly darkened and we hit a freak ten minute storm which looked like it was going to be a lot worse. Once it passed, the flat landscape and the grey sky combined to give the impression of a distant thick fog in every direction. The almost total absence of traffic added to the eerie atmosphere. After 16 miles we left Kansas and were welcomed to “Colorful Colorado”. At that moment it looked anything but. However, fairly quickly, the sky lightened and the wind dropped to almost nothing and the rest of the trip went very smoothly. 58 miles in 5 hours cycling.

Once in Colorado, you notice a difference in the landscape almost straight away. The wheat and corn have given way to some sort of shrub that we cannot yet identify. It could be sage or just tumbleweed.

Another thing you notice is the quality of the road. Highway 96 in Kansas was fairly smooth but the moment we crossed the state line it turned into a much coarser surface which seems to have been laid in ten metre sections. There is a slight gap between each section, which you probably don’t notice in a car but sends a judder through you every few seconds when cycling. This is quite annoying after a few minutes. After an hour or so, you are really keen to meet a representative of the Colorado Highway Authority and shake him warmly by the throat. It stopped just outside Eads and hopefully we’ve seen the last of it.

About 16 miles outside the town there is a site commemorating the Sandy Creek Massacre, featured in the films Soldier Blue and Little Big Man.

We arrived here in Eads at lunchtime and found K&M’s Restaurant, which is an excellent diner (delicious pork chops and mashed potatoes), The Traveller’s Lodge motel and the Windmill Bar. all literally next door to each other. A motel with Wi-Fi, a decent diner and a bar, that's all I need at the end of each day. It’s not much to ask but surprisingly rare to get all three. In Eads there doesn’t seem to be much else apart from a gas station and store. There is very little housing . The population is only 750 or so. Apart from the grain silos, it’s main purpose seems to be a truck drivers (and cyclists) resting point.

I was sorry to leave Kansas. The plains are awesome in the true sense of the word. The roads that seem to go on forever, with very little traffic allow your mind to roam freely for hours on end. I liked the people too. Friendly, slightly laconic, with a nice wry sense of humour. They are the ones I’ve felt most affinity with on the trip so far.

At the state line, Bertie the tame buzzard, just dipped his wings once and turned back. We had agreed yesterday there would be no goodbyes. It was a sad moment but, If I am absolutely honest, the pleasure of Hiawatha was beginning to wear a bit thin. He had a slight lisp which was really beginning to grate. At one stage, I tried teaching him The Waste Land but his heart wasn’t in it. Still, I shall miss him and his intelligent conversation.

Mike seems to be over his desire to travel around busking. He is still not quite right though. He has spent all afternoon hunched over his computer , mumbling. At one point he asked me if Burke’s Peerage and Who’s Who were available on-line and, if not, could we buy them in America. What can this mean?

Monday April 19, Trail’s End Motel, Tribune Kansas

17.00

Scott City turned out to be just as bad as we had feared. A burger and fries at Wendy’s, a trip to the supermarket to buy bananas and we had exhausted all its possibilities. And so to bed. I have now finished Chris Mullin’s book which I thoroughly recommend. Mike has promised me his Duke of Wellington biography when he has finished it but we may get to a bookshop before then

Today was a relatively short run, 46 miles to Tribune. Still on Hwy 96, straight and flat. Colder than yesterday and cycling most of the time in a damp mist, which I don’t mind at all, as it’s an incentive to keep pedalling. Mike is less keen and is talking of buying extra socks for the Rockies (that’s the mountains, not some silly name he has for his feet).

The small “nodding donkey” oil pumps have now more or less disappeared and are replaced by large grain silos that look like gigantic milk churns. A few herds of cattle and one or two pheasants scurrying for cover but not much else to see. We stop half way at Leoti, for coffee and cake, more to break the monotony than anything else. Just past there is the enigmatically named White Woman Creek and just past there, we crossed another time zone. We are now on Mountain Time and seven hours behind the UK. I, childishly, keep my watch as it was so that I will get an “extra hour’s sleep” tonight.

Tribune is a most peculiar place. It is named after The New York Tribune, whose publisher Horace Greeley, fought for Kansas’s entry into the union as a free state. (Tribune is in Greeley county.) He is also the originator of the phrase “Go west, young man”

The town is very small with a population of 835 but it boasts an impressive looking library and a small museum. At present the whole of the main street is currently being dug up which makes it look a bit like a war zone. There is piped music all over town, which seems to come from the lamp-posts. On our arrival we were serenaded by Tammy Wynette. It’s slightly Orwellian but it's amazing how quickly you get used to it. There are 2 local fast food places and a small antique shop that sells food out the back. It's still burgers and pizza but it's more fun to eat them surrounded by sets of old golf clubs, musical instruments and other bric a brac. While I was standing outside one of the fast food places, a roly-poly old man came out and said that he could recommend the chicken. Fifteen minutes later, when we were sitting in the antique/fast food place, the same man came in and ordered a burger and fries.

While we were eating, we were looking at a large poster on the wall with portraits of all 44 US Presidents. A man at the next table started quizzing us about our favourite/ least favourite presidents. A bit of a minefield. It was made easier when he said Reagan was his favourite (brought down the soviet empire) and Carter his least (ruined the economy). I waffled on about Washington and Adams and he seemed happy. He invited us to come to his daughter’s 8^th grade play this evening and even invited us to stay the night with him and his family. This was a very kind offer but after 5 weeks on the road, I suspect that our table manners have deteriorated somewhat and we are best left to our own devices.

We asked him where we could eat in the evening and he said the antique shop and the fast food places would all b open “and there’s a bar right next to the motel. They do food sometimes. It’s called The Trench. I guess if you have too much to drink you fall into the trench.” I think we might just pop in there later.

The motel, Trail's End is very basic. There was no soap or shampoo in our room but surprisingly it does have Wi-Fi. Given the choice I would go for the Wi-Fi. It is run by two young men (think Gary Oldman and Johnny Depp) who are from somewhere much further south, judging by their accents. They told us that they only bought the place in November and everything in their manner indicated that they deeply regretted their investment.

It's all a bit like being in a Coen brothers film. Or maybe David Lynch.

Sunday April 18^th The Lazy R Motel Scott City Kansas

16.00

There is a building in Ness City nicknamed the “Skyscraper of the Plains”. It’s just four storeys but it must have been quite a sight when it was built, in stone, in 1888. Now it acts as a civic centre and last night it was home to the local high school Prom. Mike and I had gone to look at the building and were lucky enough to see the students arriving in their finery. Very attractive they looked too. The girls seemed much more self-assured than the boys but then that’s how I remember it when I was that age.

Apparently, according to a woman in the local store, the Proms are held now as the school year ends in May. The students are then on holiday till the end of August. Can this be true? It seems a really long time.

Mike explained that it was normal for overseas visitors to attend these Prom events and they were expected to dance with as many Prommers as possible. Apparently there is a rather delightful custom whereby the girls feign reluctance and the stranger has to drag them on to the dance floor, ignoring any complaints they make, no matter how vehement. This sounded like good fun and I was very keen to take part. Unfortunately there was a bit of an altercation at the entrance when two, I have to say rather officious, ladies made a big fuss about us “not being allowed to bring brown paper bags in “ and we decided to retreat to the Cactus Club. Shame.

While we are still on Ness City, it’s other claim to fame, apart from the “skyscraper of the plains” is that, according to Wikipedia, “it gained international attention in March 2008 as the home of the woman whose buttocks grew attached to a toilet seat after refusing to move from it for two years.”

Up early today and after breakfast (back at the Cactus Club – once you find a decent place in town, you tend to stay there) we headed back on Highway 96 at 07.15. We then had, in my opinion, the most enjoyable days cycling so far. Cool and sunny, little or no wind, gentle hills and hardly any traffic. 55 miles in about five hours. A real treat.

Fifteen miles out of town there is a small monument to George Washington Carver ,whom I had never heard of. A truly remarkable man.

We stopped for coffee at Dighton, about half way. In the service station Mike got talking to a local farmer called Larry. I was only half listening but the conversation was quite interesting; they were discussing the small local oil wells that crop up quite a lot around here. One farmer has recently got lucky and is now, according to Larry, “filthy rich”. A few minutes later when I picked up the conversation again, something weird had happened. Larry, who described himself as a bible student, was explaining his theory that the Anglo Saxons, Celts and Germanic people were the Lost Tribes of Israel . He had lots of evidence; the lion in English heraldry being the Lion of Judah, stuff like that. Mike was nodding politely. I left them to it and went to look at the magazine stand. When I returned they were exchanging e-mail addresses. I have a feeling I know whose address Mike gave to Larry.

After our pleasant journey. Scott City is a disappointment. Twice as big as Ness City but with no character to speak of. The Lazy R is comfortable enough if a little old-fashioned. We have our own bed-rooms separated by an odd little kitchenette. According the woman in reception, the only places to eat this evening are Wendy’s and Pizza Hut. And there is no alcohol sold on the Sabbath. “Pizza Hut do deliver” she added helpfully.