There is an old adage that that there is never a bad day when you spend it on a bike. I was strongly questioning that as I put my head down into what felt like gale force winds with ice pellets biting into my skin. My feet still blocks of ice after crossing a stream with temps in the mid 20s.
I started out the morning rolling out of my tent, packing up most of my gear and then venturing into the shower/bath house to make breakfast and charge up as much stuff as I could on the electrical outlet I found inside. A local wandered down the hill from his house to use the paid shower and I'm sure I was a bit of a sight with all my stuff laid out on the counter.
My first oh hello there moment came at mile three when I followed a path that said the road was closed and soon realized why, a river with no bridge. Huh, how did I not notice that when scouting the route? Oh well, it's not like I was going to ride around it so off came the shoes and socks, packed up the bike and I waded across. Now that doesn't sound so bad but it was 26 degrees on my cycling computer. I quickly used my puffy coat to try and warm my feet afterward but knowing my circulation issues I knew they would not recover until I found a place to warm them.
Things never really got better and I won't lie, this day was just not a lot of fun, but what it did do is test me. From mile 16 to mile 22 I rode straight north into a headwind that made it feel like I wasn't making any progress. I actually took my cycling computer off my handlebar because it was depressing watching how little I was moving. It seemed all my energy was battling a wind that was intent on pushing me backwards. I was riding in some kind of snow and sleet mess that was pushing the limits of my rain gear. When I finally reached the town of Thorp I quickly hit up the Farm store for chemical hand warmers to put into the makeshift pogies I had constructed out of my waterproof bags I use for keeping my food in.
One big bright spot was Cafe DUTCHess, a part of Marieke Gouda. I walked in and they had a wood burning fire and the table next to it was open. Oh did that feel good to lay out all of my wet gear on the hearth, have a hearty bowl of soup and one of the best bacon cheesburgers (number 5) of the trip.
Miles 25-40 were more of the winds I had battled, there just isn't any windbreaks in the corn fields in this area. I kept thinking to myself if I could find some place to get out of the wind I would stop but there wasn't anything. The closest I found was mile 33 a small furniture making shop was close enough to the road that I was able to ride over and get out of the wind for a little bit.
At mile 40, I pulled off the road and found shelter between a few large pine trees. I was cooked and I made the decision to veer from my route and instead of sleeping at a horse camp I made a push to get to Perkinstown. I already knew full well that the P-town Saloon is closed on Mondays but I figured that at least I could setup camp there and then wake up early to have a hot breakfast and use their showers (they open at 6am). My clothes were soaked through from the snow and my cheeks were cut from the sleet and I wasn’t looking forward to setting up my tent and dealing with all my wet gear but at least I knew my sleeping bag would be dry and warm.
So to my surprise Brandon, the owner, happened to be meeting his propane guy in the parking lot. He saw me and figured I could use a warm place to stay so he offered me to stay in the apartment he rents. That was 80 dollars well spent.
Now hindsight being 20/20, with the day of riding done, a belly full from a backpackers pad thai meal my feet (almost) fully warm I could say it still wasn't a bad day and I certainly wouldn’t trade it. I really do not think I fully realized how much this trip would test my limits, and it certainly has as I limped exhausted from the headwinds and cold into Thorp, but I’m glad it has.
