September 27
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On the road about 9:30 after an excellent breakfast at the Drury. It was a GORGEOUS morning. About 60 degrees, sunny, the bright blue sky didn’t have a cloud anywhere. We waved at a guy fueling up a sportbike with soft luggage attached as we hit the interstate for our run north-west up to Iowa, where we would turn west on Highway 2 at Nebraska City. I knew from my trip out here a couple of years ago that there was a nice little ride along the Missouri River on the Nebraska side, but we had other fish to fry today.
As we turned west on 2, we got a surprise. In the time that we had been heading north on I-29, the wind had picked up, out of the south, on our tail. We had not noticed it, but as soon as we swung west, that tailwind became a crosswind, and it was blowing pretty good. Flags were sticking straight out, and the winds felt stronger than we had a few days earlier in TD Rita! It pushed us around for the next 130 miles, all the way to Grand Island.
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Somewhere along I80, a grasshopper got sucked into the cockpit of my bike and sat on the face of the clock for about 20 miles. He looked like he was enjoying the ride, but then I looked back down and he was gone.
I saw a billboard for a Cabella’s store on I80, but we needed to turn north. Sure would have been a neat place to hang out for an hour or two.
At Grand Island we turned north northwest again, on 281 and then 11, with the wind at our backs. Some people complain about crossing the Great Plains. They say that they are ugly and boring. I think otherwise. They are kind of stark, but they have their own unique beauty, especially once you get off of the interstate, where you can see all the little farming towns. It gets even better if you can follow a river, and our route put us on the banks of the Loup, which added some interest and diversity. The road had some hills, no doubt left over from the days when the river used to wander around in its bed from season to season.
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By the time we got to Burwell (about 2), the temperature had climbed to the mid-80s. Burwell is where Eric’s father was born. He had lived there until the age of 7, when his father died and his mother moved to California. There was plenty of family history in the area (Eric’s forefathers had settled this area when they immigrated from Europe), and Eric had never been there before.
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We found a little pizza place for lunch and struck up a conversation with the owner. Before we knew it, she had tracked down a second cousin of Eric’s, and he and his wife came down to visit. She (Bonnie) was 80 and he (Bo) was 79, they had been married 57 years, and they didn’t look a day over 65. We chatted over our excellent BBQ chicken pizza, and they invited us back to their house. They lived next door to the house that Eric’s grandfather had died in. Wonderful, hospitable people, we had a great time with them.
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Around 4, we started talking about getting on the road. I had planned to be on the western side of Nebraska tonight, near Alliance, but Bo said that was over 200 miles away, and sunset was about 7. We weren’t going to make it without riding at night in territory infested with deer. Maybe we needed to re-think that plan. Bo suggested we head northwest towards Valentine, where there was a brand new Indian casino that would have plenty of rooms. Sounded like a good idea. By the time we left Bo and Bonnie, and fueled up, it was 5:55. We had an hour and five minutes of daylight left. Valentine was 136 miles. We needed to move.
Bo told us about a shortcut that took us up to a dam and a lake just north of town. The route would be shorter and it was pretty to boot. We took his advice. About 5 miles up the road, a sign read “Pavement Ends”. I cussed that old man for all he was worth, putting us on a gravel road when we were trying to make time! No telling HOW far it would be till the road was paved again! Well, it turned out that Bo knew best, there were only two short gravel sections, maybe ¾ of a mile total, and the rest of the road was in nice shape, and pretty. Sorry, Bo, I won’t doubt you next time!
Once on 183, we wicked it up and ran 90 all the way to Bassett. We fueled up, not wanting a repeat of yesterday. The light was fading fast, and there was a hotel in town, but it didn’t look very impressive. We would press on. We turned west on 20 and tucked in behind a big utility truck that could sweep the deer off the road for us. Alas, he turned in a few miles, so we continued on, keeping our speed down and our eyes open. We saw a sign advertising a Holiday Inn Express in Valentine, still 50 miles ahead. But as we entered the little town of Ainsworth, we came up on a Comfort Inn! It was the smallest Comfort I had ever seen, probably only 30 rooms. I had to wonder what genius had decided to build a Comfort Inn in a backwater like Ainsworth, Nebraska, but we were happy to see it, and called it a night there. The only restaurant in town with a bar was within walking distance, so we had a dinner of corn-fed Nebraska beef and killed a few beers before bed.
The GPS showed 404 miles today.
