Paris to Broken Bow

Day 3

18.11 miles @ an average of 10.6mph, max of 18.1

Total ride time of 1:42'00

The night after my last post I made the great decision to spend most of the night reading a book I bought recently called Those Across the River by Christopher Buelman (a.k.a. Christophe the Insultor) and therefore stayed up until about 5AM. Brilliant (the book, not staying up that late to finish it)! I also thought checkout time would be around 10AM and so I woke up around 9:30, went to the office, and discovered the actual checkout time was 11. So, I spent some time milling around, packing, and then went to a local coffee shop where I spent most of the day catching up with friends on Facebook and drinking half-decent coffee. I did run into a couple of guys who overheard me trying to find out where exactly to camp at Pat Mayse, and they suggested their own favorite campgrounds around the lake, which actually saved me quite a few miles on the road, and saved me time on the next day getting to Hugo lake in Oklahoma. Anyway, I left town around 6PM. Should have left earlier, but I was busy charging electronics. Lame excuse, I know, but I got to the campgrounds after dark regardless of what excuse I make. So here's an excuse as to why I went so slowly: the wind was to my face the whole time!

Anyway, I got to camp just after nightfall, and on the road into camp I ran into a pack of wild boar crossing the roadway. I know these animals can be extremely dangerous, so I was unsure what to do. I blasted my air horn which worked marvelously. I can still hear the scampering of cloven hooves on blacktop. Actually, I thought there were only one or two of the beasts until I blew the horn and heard nearly a dozen tearing ass off into the woods on either side of the road. Didn't know those things moved in packs, but there you go. Anyway, I got to the camp entrance safely and the rangers charged me $10 bucks for a campsite with no running water or electricity. What a sham. I didn't like the campsite that much anyway, because it was incredibly open, with no privacy to speak of. This didn't matter too much as it is no longer summer, and it was a weekday so there were very few other campers. Of the campers there were, a few were checking in at the same time I was, and one of their little boys was intrigued by my loaded bike. His father mentioned that I was fully-loaded, and the son said, "Fully-loaded? Naw, you need a wide-load sign on that!" Ahh, children...

As I cooked my dinner I could feel a cold-front coming in, and I was glad I picked up some warm gear before I left Dallas. However, it spoke to troubles I would have the following day.

Day 4

25.77 miles @ an average of 10.9mph, 21.2 max

Total ride time of 2:21'02

Woke up late around 2PM due to the beautifully cool weather. Struck camp and headed out around 4PM. Wind was to my face again, so I rode slowly, and stopped a few times for the crossing of the Red River and my entry into Oklahoma! Finally, a new state! Stopped a few miles into the state next to the Choctaw Casino at a gas station where I picked up a slice of pizza for some extra calories. I stayed there for a while, just watching people come through. Ran into some more rain, this time while riding, and after it stopped I got a flat on my back tire. By this time the temperature was dropping rapidly, and I was ready to get to camp, but the flat had set me back by some time, and I ended up getting to camp after dark. As I turned onto the road toward the camp, I stopped to investigate an annoying sound emanating from my front tire. I found that the sound was only the strap of my Camelbak rubbing on the tire, so I tightened the strap to pull it off the tire and stop the sound. After securing the strap I turn my head toward the field to the side of the road, and, reflected in my headlamp, I see three pairs of eyes looking straight at me, each about two-and-a-half feet off the ground, and about 25 or 30 yards out. They look like dog eyes, but there is no barking, as you would expect from a dog. The one in the center began to bound towards me through the tall grass, while the other two fan out. I realize I'm being hunted, probably by Coyotes. I throw my leg over the bike, clip in, and as quickly as possible get up to about 20 miles per hour. I keep looking behind me as I pedal, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't see them, but it was dark, and I couldn't be sure, so I kept pedaling until I reached the lights at the entry of the park about two miles down the road. I slowed and looked behind, and there was nothing behind me. Finally, my heart slowed, and I pedaled slowly to the tent sites, and settled in for the night.

Feeling a bit homesick for San Marcos. Miss my friends there.

Day 5

15.47 miles @ an average of 10.6mph, max of 18.5

Forgot to take down my ride time. Do some math, foo.

The ride wasn't long this day, but it was arduous. The wind was directly in my face the entire ride, and I was getting sick of it. I kept stopping every few miles because the wind made the ride feel like it was all uphill. About three miles from camp I stopped in town for some Gatorade and a sit-down. As I rolled up a group of young girls in too much make-up and their boyfriends were gassing up their truck in preparation to go to a rodeo or horse show or something like that. One of the young girls commented that she liked my bike. Another young man travelling on a sort of ATV with his father asked if I had far to go to get home. When I responded that I wasn't headed home, and instead headed to Missouri, his jaw dropped. He said I was crazy. I said he might be right.

I stayed at that gas station for a while and just watched small town Oklahoma roll through. It was a small town, and at the two tables inside the gas station, a few local teens were relaxing. They looked at me oddly as I walked through the store in my bike gear. I picked up some canned fruit and a cup of hot chocolate, which I sipped on as I sat outside, watching the locals live their lives. Some of the locals fit the "redneck" description perfectly, while others attempted to differentiate themselves from their neighbors through dress and behavior. One young man pulled up in a pickup truck in which he had installed massive subs and pumped rap music with the windows down as he filled his tank. Almost everyone drove trucks.

After a while of this, I rode the last three miles to the campsite and settled in for the night.

Day 6

25.17 miles @ an average of 9.9mpg, max of 29.2

Total ride time of 2:32'22

I didn't even realize it was the weekend until I woke up and there was a family reunion going on down the hill from me. One guy walked his dog up the hill where I was to get away from the family, which he said he had married into. He chatted with me and promised to bring me leftovers, which he did just as I finished cooking my breakfast. He was yelling, "You shouldn't be doing that!" but the plate he brought me was almost entirely meat. There was chicken fried steak, sliced ham, pulled pork, spaghetti with meat sauce, green beans with bacon, and a salad. With ham chunks in it. And people wonder why Americans are so fat... Still, it was a nice thought, but I ended up throwing the food into the woods where I was sure the raccoons would finish it off the following night.

The park ranger rolled by a few times to check in on me and make sure I was going to pay for camping. When I went by the office with the intent to pay he said they didn't take credit/debit cards, and the camping was $10. I had only $4 in my wallet and he said I could mail them a check when I had the chance. He then told me the best route to take to the next campsite, which I immediately forgot, to my detriment. I followed Google's suggested route which took me over about 11 miles of dirt road, which I have mentioned earlier my bike is not made for. It ended up being one of the hardest rides of my trip so far. The dirt held me back on both the downhills and the uphills, and when I finally got off the dirt roads, I ended up getting into the foothills of the Oklahoma mountains. The last five miles of the trip to the campsite were incredibly hilly. In fact, they made me want to be back in the lesser hills of San Marcos. Here, I thought San Marcos would prepare me pretty well for mountain stages, and the foothills I hit wore me out. Still, I made it to camp before sundown for once, and was able to set up my hammock in daylight. Somehow, I set it up worse than any other time on the trip so far. I hung it too low, and my butt was almost scraping the ground as I laid down. This problem was made worse when I saw lightning in the distance and moved my gear under my rain fly, right next to me, so that whenever the wind blew the hammock to rocking, I would be butting up against the gear (no pun intended). The bugs at this camp were intense. I realized that I probably should have brought at least one lamp-type light so that all the light I shine around doesn't attract every bug in the vicinity. They were up my nose with nearly every other breath. With this in mind, I headed to bed earlier than I have any time on my entire trip. Of course, I wasn't able to get to sleep for a long time, so I ended up sleeping in until 11AM, which isn't the latest I've woken up, but it isn't the earliest...

Day 7

34.91 miles @ an average of 10.9mph, max of 29.8

Total ride time of 3:11'18

Woke up to the windiest day I've experienced so far on this trip. The wind almost blew away my stove's wind-block as I cooked breakfast, so I had to make a wind-block for the wind-block with all my gear and the picnic table at my site. Once that was cooked, I charged up my phone at another campsite which had electricity. I would have camped there, but the charge was $15 for those and only $10 for those without running water or electricity. That, and none of the sites with water/electricity had trees close enough together to hang my hammock. Either way, I got off the site without paying for camping anyway. So, once my phone was charged, I set off on the road, despite the fact that I had woken feeling lousy, and possibly with a fever.

To begin, I had to backtrack down the five miles of foothills I came in on because it was the only road leading to the campsite, which got me tired to start. I went another few arduous miles with massive hills and the wind once again to my face before I stopped at a tiny filling station owned and operated by an elderly man on crutches and his sister, who looked about 10 years older than him. As I sat outside to smoke and recoup, he joined me outside and immediately began talking about his life and asking me about mine. He told me that he's a conservative at heart, but that his father told him he always needed to vote with his pocketbook, and that morals go out the window when it comes to politics. "I can't afford to be a Republican," he told me. I couldn't agree more. He went on to say that he's a teacher at the local high school, and that he has been for so long that most of the kids in his class are the children of kids he's had in his class before. He said when he needs to discipline the kids he says, "Do I need to stop by the house tonight?" I laughed at this, and he enjoyed talking to me, so he went on for a while, asking what I graduated in, what I plan to do with it. All told he probably talked to me for a good half hour, just switching from subject to subject, but always returning to teaching, and how good and important it is for kids to get an education. As he talked he looked at me periodically with his piercing, milky blue eyes. I could tell that, despite his frail physical condition, the man was sharp as a tack, and had a spirit which would never easily be brought down. I wish I could have interviewed him with recording equipment. He was rather amazing, and I would have stayed with him longer, but I had another 30 or so miles to cover, and, just like him, the day wasn't getting younger.

I started off again, and pedaled as long as I could on those hills, stopping only periodically to buy more Gatorade, or to start a new podcast to keep me entertained. As the day went on, the sky darkened prematurely, and lightning began to flash in the black, black clouds that hung overhead. About four miles from town, the thunder roared, and the skies opened up in a horrendous downpour. For about half a mile I went on in this torrent, though I couldn't see but 20 yards ahead, until hail began to beat down on me. I'm more glad of my helmet today than I have been all trip. At first I didn't even realize it was hail, as the largest stones were only the size of peas, and didn't sting too much, but after a minute or so, they grew to the size of nickels, and some larger, beating down on me, stinging my skin, scraping my face and ears. Though I had on my rain jacket, the stones still stung through it. I tried to flag down a passing car or two, but they gave me a wider berth than they ever do while I'm actually riding. I turned back toward the last grove of trees I had seen and ran into it, leaving my bike at the edge, and hoping that the boughs would provide some cover for me. They did provide minimal cover, and the hail stones which hit me here in the grove stung less, though they still made a loud "pop" every time they would strike my helmet.

I was miserable.

The rain let up, and the hail stopped a few minutes later and I carried on down the road, only to find that there was a closed filling station with a roof only a hundred yards down the road from where I had turned back, which would have provided ample cover from the hail, had I been able to see it through the downpour. I slogged past it, and covered the last three miles into Broken Bow slowly in the rain.

As I reached the first stoplight in town I looked to my left and saw a motel. I went up to it immediately, and asked the price for a room. The man at the desk said he only had one room left and it was $45. I told him I would look around, and he said $40, with tax. In no mood to argue, I took the offer, and quickly found myself in the shittiest hotel room I have ever seen. If this town were big enough to have a red-light district, this would be the motel where you could rent rooms for cash by the hour. It's a roach motel. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Gregor Samsa were one of the other renters. Still, it's better than being out in the ferocious storm which continues to pour more water on this area than the soil can handle. And I still feel slightly feverish. But, I have the chance to update this blog with the motel's wi-fi, and I have a bed to sleep in, and I have a chance to do some laundry tomorrow. Won't clean clothes feel weird?

I feel like I could sleep forever.

'Til next time, I'll keep on pedaling, you keep reading!