Vastness

Day 32: Shaunovan to Gravelbourg. 102 miles. TOTAL TO DATE (TTT) 1900 miles, 2600 feet elevation. Weather mostly cooperative.

We clearly speak a degenerate and weak form of English. I’m not talking about Americans in comparison to Canadians. I listened to a book by Thomas Paine today called “Common Sense.” His language was so powerful that he very politely yet powerfully destroyed all arguments against fighting for independence in 1775. His words are almost like poetry, with the power of profound clarity and truth. It was very impressive, and I highly recommend it. Plus, it is free on Audible.

Last night, I pulled out my lights for night riding. I made sure they were charged. I was anticipating a long and possibly nighttime ride today. I wasn’t too far off the mark. For the first time, I did 100 miles. However, I left at about 6:35 this morning and rode until 5:30 tonight, so it was still light out.

As you may know, I use a navigation app on my phone. It’s called Ride with GPS. It is convenient, but if I ever have a power or phone function disaster, I will likely become part of some future archaeological dig, or at best, be found dead several days later after wandering in circles around a cornfield.

One helpful feature is verbal navigation. It’s my one friend on the ride, or at least sometimes she’s my friend. Before a turn, she’ll warn me. After a turn, she’ll tell me how far to the next turn. That can be pretty discouraging, like this afternoon when I’d already ridden about 70 miles and turned onto the road in the picture above. My friend/enemy then said, “Continue 25 miles and then turn left.” I knew I had a lot of miles ahead; I just didn’t really want to do them in one straight shot.

It was along this empty stretch that someone finally pulled up and essentially asked if I was crazy. It was a gentleman who lived nearby, about 5 to 10 years older. He couldn’t figure out what someone was doing bicycling through these fields. It didn’t compute, and he had to ask. I took the opportunity to engage and learned that on one side of me was a crop of chickpeas, and on the other, Durham wheat. The gentleman said the chickpeas were a favorite in his chili when he held cook-offs at his church each year. I learned he attended church in Gravelburg, and unfortunately, he told me how far it was to Gravelburg.

After my mud experience on Monday, I admit I have a little PTSD. There are several warnings along the route suggesting alternatives if it’s raining, to avoid getting stuck in the mud. There wasn’t any rain forecast. However, one dark cloud in the sky just about makes me wet my pants, especially when I’m miles from any visible signs of humanity except for planted fields. I tried to remember my German from 9th grade in Findlay, Ohio, because I passed a Hutterite colony, and if it rained, I’d be begging them for help.

The emptiness and vastness of this area just can’t be described. It needs to be experienced on foot or by bike. I suspect that many of these farms are thousands of acres. In the mountains, you feel alone but surrounded by trees and peaks. Here, you look out and can almost see where you’ll be tomorrow! Sometimes, as I look around me, I laugh at the absurdity of being in the middle of nowhere on a ridiculous little bike (okay, sometimes I almost cry). But that laugh is the laugh of joy and appreciation for being so fortunate as to experience this vastness. It’s the laugh of appreciation for a land so immense that, while cultivated, is still an untamed wilderness to me. It is almost like being on the moon, with a power bar and a water bottle, just looking at incredible Earth right now, thousands of miles away. It’s beautiful, and I thank God for letting me experience it. BTW, that yellow is canola that you cook with, I believe.

I know it’s strange to take a picture of a bathroom, but it would be even stranger if people were in it. I just have to show where I stopped for lunch. This was a city park with bathrooms. There were no people, no guards, no nothing, just beautiful flush toilets, showers, and a sink. I almost took a shower; it was so wonderful, clean, and nice. I wish we could get our act together in Pueblo and other areas so we could enjoy good community buildings.

Once more, I was chased the last 10 miles into Gravelburg by a black beast. This was probably a good thing as I was pretty beat, and there was a bit of a headwind. Thankfully, I made it to the motel before the rain began. Tomorrow is a bit easier, and I’m looking forward to it.