Three States, Willa Cather, Pikes Peak

As I rode south on US 281 past the Blue Hill Motel this morning I reflected that it looked to be clean and quiet, and that the nearby downtown area probably had a good restaurant. I'd planned to stay there, but turned in at the Rainbow Motel in Hastings when I saw the 'Vacancy' sign lit up. Of course had I stayed in Blue Hill I would have missed the loud 2:30 AM altercation in the Rainbow parking lot between the manager and a few rowdy guests, and I would also have missed dinner at the colorful H&K Sports Bar and Grill, which looks like a local hangout. Everyone there seemed to know everyone else, and there was a lot of mingling at the tables. Every 10 minutes or so a man would shout the names of Keno winners over the PA system, there were a dozen TV sets tuned to sports channels, families were eating dinner with their kids, there was a busy side room filled with gambling machines, and people were drinking at the bar and watching sports or Keno results. There was a small baby being passed around and I never did figure out who owned it - two waitresses and three customers were holding it at one time or another. When I told Vanya about this she said, "Oh, so it was a bar baby." The fish sandwich I had was good, so maybe people come there  for the food.

A sign informing me that I was on 'Willa Cather Highway' reminded me where I'd heard the name of Red Cloud, Nebraska before - the author Willa Cather spent her formative years there. I had wanted to ride more than 40 miles before breakfast, but in Red Cloud I made a quick turn when I spotted the Red Brick Cafe. I parked the bike and walked in to find that the place is a combination used book store and cafe, with a section devoted to Ms. Cather. I was immediately engaged in a conversation with Jean, an 80-year-old (she told me right away) who informed me that the scrambled eggs were very good, the potatoes cooked to perfection, and that the coffee was good. She also encouraged me to visit the nearby Willa Cather Historical Society in the old Opera House, which had a special display of photographs from West of Last Chance by Kent Haruf and Peter Brown on the second floor. She told me a little about Ms. Cather, and about Mari Sandoz, another Plains author. Eventually, Jean's husband, who had been smoking a cigarette outside, came in to collect her and I ate my breakfast, which fully lived up to Jean's enthusiastic description.

Downtown Red Cloud, Nebraska

The old Opera House held an interesting collection of artifacts about its history and Willa Cather's life, but the exhibit on the second floor of photographs and text from West of Last Chance was a special treat. I'll order the book on Amazon right away. It was Street Car Days in Red Cloud this Saturday, celebrating the time (back in the early 1900's) when Red Cloud was known for its horse-drawn streetcars that went down the brick-lined streets. There was a parade about to begin on Main Street, still brick-lined, and I wanted  to move my bike out of the way. However, I spent a few minutes talking with Courtney, a man in front of the cafe who grew up in Menlo Park, and who said that Red Cloud seemed to be doing well, bringing in new businesses and he was very happy there.

US 136 is one of those old two-lane roads that isn't used much anymore. It is rough and patched with tar snakes and has crumbling shoulders (keeps you alert), but there is no traffic and the farms, woods, and hills are scenic enough.

An old truck rests in front of a corn field on US 136

In Alma I turned south in US 183, and soon crossed the border into Kansas, where I went southwest on State Road 383 to US 36 and Norton, continuing southwest until 383 became US 83 in Selden. I went west on US 24 to Colby to get fuel for the bike, and also picked up a large cup of chilled fruit for myself at the Love's Service Plaza. South of Colby I went west on US 40 into Colorado where I stopped in Kit Carson for a chicken sandwich at a small cafe run by an old couple. There I met a local who once lived in San Mateo, and he told me about a long motorcycle trip he'd taken in 1977 on a Kawasaki KZ650. I gassed up at an unattended credit card pump in Kit Carson, the only gas in town, because there didn't look to be any other towns on my route that might have gas. US 40 joins US 287, a major south-north route, in Kit Carson, and there was heavy truck traffic for 20 miles until I turned west on SR 94, which rivals US 50 across Nevada for 'Loneliest Road' claim. This has happened to me before, riding west in eastern Colorado: You are riding along and watching the clouds meet the horizon, and suddenly there is the shadow of the Rocky Mountains ahead. There was a lot of empty land, which eventually gave way to cattle ranches, almost no other vehicles, and ninety or so miles  later SR 94 joined US 24 outside  of Colorado Springs.

How I navigate: A map and notes in the tank bag window, and a GPS on the handlebar.

Colorado State Road 94 - the real 'Loneliest Road'

There was a fair amount of traffic in Colorado Springs, especially heading in the other direction out of the mountains. Soon  enough I was through  town and after paying my $12 was on the road that goes up Pikes Peak. There is only one place to pass legally and there were a few slow cars, so I just eased along with everyone, dropping into first gear and slipping the clutch around hairpin turns that I would have probably taken in second gear if I hadn't been following anyone. The scenery was nice, though, and it gradually became cooler as we neared the 14,110 foot summit. Although the BMW has fuel injection, it didn't want to idle - perhaps the German engineers hadn't considered Pikes Peak when they did their mapping. Fortunately, the fast  idle  lever solved the problem. There's a very large gift store, a large parking area, and the terminus of the Manitou Springs and Pikes Peak Railroad. I took  a few pictures of the valley and clouds below, the surrounding mountains, and put on heavy gloves, closed the vents in my jacket, and put on a sweater - it was 48 degrees. The way down was more of the same - slow drivers creeping around tight turns and stopping in the middle of the road to take a picture of a mountain goat. I have a suggestion for the car, pickup, and SUV drivers - take the train. Two-thirds of the way down there's a brake inspection area where the attendant points an infrared thermometer at the front brakes to make sure they aren't overheated, but he waved me through. Motorcycles (almost all) have manual transmissions and very good brakes.

Overlooking the clouds and into the valley and Colorado Springs

The railway terminus at the peak

Just to prove I was there

 Back on US 24 I stopped for the night at the Cascade Lodge, where the very pleasant owner rented me a clean room with heavy doors that closed perfectly, new plumbing fixtures, and unmarred furnishings - quite unlike the places in which I usually stay. She and I shared a pizza that I ordered, and she gave me a Squirt.

Last night my Cleveland sister called to say that she and her husband are spending 11 days at their place in Deer Valley, Utah, which is near Park City. Tomorrow I'll head in that direction, cutting northwest across the Rockies. There are thundershowers predicted along my route for the next couple of days, so I'll keep my rain gear handy.

Today I covered over 500 miles, including the 38 mile ride up Pikes Peak and back, all on two-lane back roads, and I wasn't even trying.