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.