Dakota 50/50

 September 69, 2022

Dear Family and Friends,

I hope you had a nice Labor Day weekend.  Oh really? Maybe you can draw me a diagram of how that happened and send to me?

Mine was great, thanks for asking!  My friend Rich had once again coerced talked me into going up to Spearfish, SD to participate in the Dakota Five-O, which is a mountain bike race/ride/tour, but I’d say mostly a race/ride because on a tour you can kind of meander about and take photos, etc.  Although these things are possible on the D-5-O, they would not really work with someone like me (i.e., someone who is slow but appreciates the aid stations and camaraderie).  Although I can’t recall for sure, I think my experience this year was even better than my first D-5-O back in 2009, and I’m pretty sure no one’s gonna argue with me about that. 

For those who may not be familiar with the D-5-O, let me give you a brief summary:

1.  It’s a 50-mile course (and rockier than I remember)

2.  More than 6,500 feet of climbing

3.  About 90% singletrack

4.  Spearfish, SD (it is a beautiful area and quite amenable to experiencing via mountain bike, and this ride in particular)

 

Here is a photo of Rich and I before our designated 7:40 a.m. start.

 

So that is the summary, a more detailed report follows for those that are interested.  Also, these “details” are as I remember them, which may or may not be quite right since things got a little hazy once in a while out there on the hot, dusty trail.

 

Rich and I got into Spearfish on Friday evening and set up camp at the Spearfish City Park Campground, which was crowded.  We pitched our tent on the ice rink, which was close to Steve and Barb’s campsite. Since there are no fire rings in the ice rink, Steve and Barb shared their fire with us and we visited a while and rocked out with their Bluetooth stereo thing.  Then we shuffled off to get some rest.  

 

Saturday a.m. we decided to pre-ride some of the course.  We got some general directions for a technical section and drove up to the Big Hill Trailhead.  After the actual D-5-O, we discovered that the Tinton Trail downhill from this trailhead is a good technical section, but the stretch from Big Hill Trailhead to Cardiac climb is not technical, but does offer some great bovine viewing opportunities. 

We also didn’t really know exactly where we were going so we ended up staying out a bit longer than I was planning (about 2 hours and 14 miles total, which is about twice what I was hoping for, but who’s keeping score?).  We did get a taste of the Cardiac Bypass climb, which was a nice workout.  Once back at camp, we relaxed and went out to Nonna’s Kitchen for dinner, which was quite good.  I had the Crazy Green Spaghetti (pesto sauce) and if I get that next time I think I’ll add the shrimp.  

 

Sunday a.m. – day of the ride!  I had been looking forward to this!  Prep included the following:

1.  Chamois Butt'r:  I forgot mine but luckily Rich did not

2.  We agreed that we each should probably have an extra bottle for water but we also agreed that we could probably just leave ‘em empty until the first aid station.  That way we wouldn’t need to carry the extra water weight on the climb and we figured we wouldn’t need that much water for the first part since the temps wouldn’t be that high (forecast high of 100 degrees WT[F]).  

3.  I packed up a few expired caffeine/B vitamin capsules I’d received at some other organized bike ride, 3 gel packs (only one expired), and a Clif bar.

4.  A Camelbak full of ice water.

5.  A lot of sunscreen (50 SPF).

6.  Breakfast was a large Rice Krispee bar, a Kind peanut butter breakfast bar and a clementine

7.  I knew the climb up to the trail was pretty tough, so I decided to start with 60 psi in my Hutchinson Pythons.  I think Rich thought I was joking, but I wasn’t.  This may have contributed to flat #1?  Anyway, I intended to relieve some of that pressure as soon as it was convenient, but certainly no later than Aid Station 1.

 

There are waves of riders based on estimated speed.  Rich and I were in the last wave, so our start time was 7:40 a.m.  The group wasn’t as large as I thought it would be, maybe 60 people or so?  We had all estimated our time to complete at more than 8 hours.  I think there were 4 or 5 waves before us.  We exchanged some genial conversation and then, with a brief pep talk and an air horn, we were led out by a gregarious fellow on a 4-wheeler. They had some intersections blocked off for us as we climbed on a few paved roads, then a few hard-packed gravel, and then onto the singletrack of Tinton Trail– a silty soil with rocks more or less common in various sections.  After testing the limits of my modest finesse, I heard a loud pop and realized I’d be fixing a flat.  I don’t recall having such a dramatic flat in my bicycling history, so I expected a pretty big hole in the tube, but it really wasn’t too bad.  And that was good, because the spare tube I had in my behind-the-saddle bag was recommended for 1.25 – 1.75” and my tyres were 2.0” wide. I am pretty sure this combination would work under most circumstances, but based on the sharp rocks and long trail ahead I didn’t think having the rubber stretched that thin would be prudent. So I patched with ye olde Park Tool patch kit and pumped with my mini-pump up to around 25 psi or so (it’s kind of hard to get a lot of pressure injected with the mini pump) and figured I’d add some more at the first Aid Station.  There were some good climbs and plenty of rocky sections to keep me focused for the next 4 miles or so before we made it up to the Big Hill Trailhead where Rich and I had started yesterday.  Although the tyre seemed to fold just a bit around tight corners the low pressure otherwise seemed fine, although I did try to pay a little more attention to avoiding jagged rocks when possible.  It was only a mile or 2 in from the BHT that we came to the first Aid Station (Big Hill, 10 miles from start).  This stop was excellent.  They had the following aspects of greatness:

1.  a tyre pump

2.  loud music that included Beastie Boys and Metallica

3.  pickle slices and/or pickle juice in little Dixie cups 

4.  water and Gatorade (or similar)

5.  helpful people with big hair (or possibly wigs, it’s all kind of hard to visualize at this point)

I heard some talk at this stop about a cut off time of 1:30 and I thought they said we had to be at the Ball Field by then, but that didn’t really mean much to me since I’d done a poor job of looking over the course beforehand and the location of the Ball Field to me was a complete mystery to me.  The way it was said also seemed like someone might be “pulling my leg” or, since there were multiple listeners, “pulling our legs.”  I felt good and there were plenty of other mountainous bicyclers nearby, so I figured we’d be fine.  I gulped down my expired caffeine/vitamin tablets, plenty of pickles, and a banana and was on my way.  

The next part of the ride started with a relatively smooth, flowy, mostly downhill section to a junction where an unofficial aid station was present.  Prior to reaching the unofficial aid station, I hazily recall meeting a gregarious family out for a 4-wheeling venture.  They kicked up a lot of dust and were kind of slow and unpassable because we were on a narrow section of trail where they were kind of over-sized for around 4 or 5 minutes (I think, although it felt like 15!). Eventually they must have noticed us because they got off to the side and apologized.  I smiled brightly and said, “No problem!” in order to promote harmony amongst all trail users.  Once I got to the unofficial aid station it didn’t seem that far from the 1^st Official Aid Station so I didn’t get a water refill.  I did chat with one of the attendants since he stated, “I think that’s the oldest Schwinn I’ve seen today!”  I figured it probably was, since my trusty steed was born back in 1995 and had already experienced one D-5-O back in ’09.  

Since then, not much had changed on ol’ Shifty, I got a new-to-me Rock Shox suspension seatpost a while back to replace my old U.S.E. seatpost and I, unwisely, replaced the chain (Shimano) and cassette (Sram) and the two weren’t getting along as well as I had hoped they would.  I should have believed the guy at the Bike Rack (aka Trek Store-Omaha West) who stated that the 2 brands didn’t always play well together.  The Cardiac Climb was rather long, but actually kind of fun, featuring winding trails with a few flatter areas for resting.  I got behind a guy going about my speed and he kept picking good lines for easy climbing, so I expressed my appreciation by stating, “I like the lines you’re picking.”  To which he chuckled.  In this way I was able to reserve my limited quantities of mental acuity for moments when it might be needed in the future.   Do you know what else would be needed in the future?  Water!  I was dry at 10:50 a.m.!  At Aid Station 1 I’d refilled with Gatorade and I hadn’t taken the bladder all the way out of the pack.  In hindsight, I think I may not have had the bladder fully expanded (i.e., slightly pinched/squeezed in some area) such that I didn’t get a full refill.  Whatever the cause, I wasn’t thrilled with this development, but I felt well hydrated at the time.  I asked a fellow rider how long he thought it was until the next aid station and he estimated about 4 miles.  It started getting warmer as we reached higher terrain with some nice overlooks and some breeze along sections of trail known as Recovery Ridge and Rimrock Trail. I was, hot, thirsty, and grateful as I rolled into the Old Baldy Aid Station (Aid Station 2, 22 miles from start) at high noon.  “I love you!” I told the kindly fellow who refilled my water.  I even got a nice misting from another fellow with a different hose attachment!  Although I vowed to drink all 70 ounces of my Camelbak, I did not.  However, I did laze around in the shade for at least ½ hour, enjoyed some music by a couple of guys that included Phish's classic "Waste", drink about ½ of the Camelbak, and enjoy a nice pasta salad provided by a kindly North Dakotan.  Although it seemed daunting to eat real food at first, I had a nice bag of popcorn appetizer and the pasta was perfect!  She also had a great mantra that she offered after we joked about calling it a day due to the heat, something along the lines of “Everyone must deal with pain. Pick your pain:  the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.”  Now that’s a good mantra.  However, it’s also a bit stark, so I didn’t dwell on it much as I continued on the ride.  I mostly had a Taj Mahal song stuck in my head.  It was this one:

  

When I finally left Aid Station 2 it was approximately 12:35 and I had been informed that I had made the cut off time.  I was happy to hear it and I was also not feeling any urge to hurry.  From here on out any climb that looked even a little iffy would be one that I walked up.  This stemmed from a few factors, including the following:

1.    I had previously noticed that attempting to do seated climbs for steep sections could cause some lower back strain as I kind of hunched over in an effort to keep my weight on the front tyre.  I think that is why one of the main things I remember about the D-5-O of ’09 was my sore back for several days after the event.

2.    The effort of dismounting suddenly was something that could be a bit taxing physically and mentally and I didn’t need that noise.

3.    It was just nice to use some different muscle groups from time to time.  

To be honest, this part of the ride went by pretty fast.  I may have been in a bit of a daze, but I believe things were often fast and flowy with rocks here and there.  I was in the zone and loving it.  I had left Shifty out in the sun and it seemed to improve my shifting, leading me to believe that perhaps my cable tension had been a bit too taut and the heat of the sun had stretched them to just the right amount of tension.  I helped a fellow Omahan tighten up his cleat because he had back issues and couldn’t easily remove his shoe. Tightening the shit out of bolts makes me feel pretty damn good for some reason. 

Eventually I made it to Sheep Flats where another much welcomed informal aid station was set up. There wasn’t any water left, but there was a whole lot of ice and it felt fantastic in ye olde Camelbak.  I rode jauntily onward and experienced a feeling of rightness that is hard to relate yet most enjoyable to feel.  I felt fast and smooth without undue effort. Before I knew it I zipped through a downhill into the Ball Field (Aid Station 3, mile 35).  I don’t know why it’s called that and I don’t even have a theory. One thing about this place was that it was f-ing hot!  I found some shade, ate something (maybe a banana?) got some water and grabbed a pack of these:

 

People at the Ball Field were deciding their fate.  Yes, it was hot.  Yes, there was a big-ass, 2-mile-long hill between us and the Bacon and PBR Aid Station. Yes, there was a road nearby that led back towards the many comforts of the civilized world in the form of Spearfish, SD.  But the glory?  Ah, the glory lay above, as did the PBR and bacon!  So I set out for a short ride and then a quick dismount followed by a long walk. I settled into a comfortable pace, sipping my water and occasionally enjoying a margarita-flavored gummy.  It wasn’t until a few days later after I got home that I noticed these had caffeine in addition to salts.  In any case, I felt great as I arrived at the wonderful PBR and bacon stop (Aid Station 4, mile 38).  The bacon was crispy, salty perfection!  The PBR would have been anathema, so I avoided its siren call.  There would be time enough for that type of brewhaha if and when I was back at the Spearfish City Park.  I briefly chatted with a few of the members of the Hay Camp cycling team and offered the following “encouragement”:  “Is it really even voluntary at this point?”  Next up was the Dakota Ridge, which I had heard was “the most technical part” of the ride, but also “not too bad.”  I think I can agree with both of those statements.  I switched from my sunglasses to some clear safety glasses to make sure I didn’t miss the right line through the rocks.  It did take some concentration and commitment to navigate a pretty challenging gauntlet of short rocky ascents and descents with some curves and some nice views that I didn’t look at very much because I had to keep my eyes on the trail.  This was the new-to-me part of the route that had replaced the old Cathedral Slides – a steep sandy trail that I recall as being more like skiing than biking down some very steep descents.  Apparently there had been enough crashes in the CS that the route had been altered and I’d say the Dakota Ridge was a more satisfying option anyway.  

After D Ridge I was feeling very good, but also a little knackered so I found some shade along a fire road and enjoyed the rest of my Clif bar and rang my bell at the Hay Camp fellows that cycled past.  

The rest of the way back on the Tinton Trail was at least as much fun on the way out.  It was cooling off a bit and it felt like a downhill glide even though it is really kind of a series of rolling hills with some rocky sections.  I conversed for a while with an older fellow from North Dakota who was riding at about the same pace as I.  Then I heard a subtle hissing that I knew signaled another flat.  It was at approximately the same spot as on the way out! What the hell!?  Anyway, I sat down and patched it.  There was a pretty good gash in the tyre this time so I included a paper-reinforced patch for the tyre as well as the tube.  

It was actually a nice break and things cooled down even more.  I got the tyre pumped back up to maybe 30 psi and proceeded onwards.  Once I reached the gravel roads I felt like it was smooth sailing and I felt like a hawkman as I dove speedily back towards town.  After arriving in Spearfish I climbed a short residential hill where a friendly couple clapped as I climbed and offered words of encouragement.  A woman offered me a cold Gatorade and then ran alongside my bike and smilingly shoved it into my bottle holder when I tried to politely refuse since I still had quite a bit of water left.  Spearfishers are awesome!  It wasn’t much later before I was back at City Park.  A cheering crowd was still lining the finish and I rang my bell at them in appreciation as I cycled in.  Soon I was enjoying a delicious Crow Peak Pile O' Dirt Porter in addition to the ice-cold Gatorade Zero. 

It was a little more than 11 hours after the start.

Although the festivities were winding down before I arrived, 

it felt great to be there and I really appreciate all the people that were in any way involved in the event and Rich for talking me into getting back out there again.  I felt very welcomed and at home with everyone I met and I will always remember the experience with gratitude.  

Rich and I compared our dustiness.

A few takeaways/notes to self:

1. Be sure to bend water bottle cage in so that it tightly holds water bottle.  I lost one this time and one in 2009.
2. Get some tougher tyres (and consider lower tyre pressure) to help withstand the rocks.

We had a nice dinner at Killian's and the next day we were homeward bound with plenty of good memories and some sore muscles.

D-5-O forever!

BSO 

BRANimalistic Tendencies

July 9 June 17, 2022

In politically divisive times, I hope we can all at least agree about a few bicycle-related things. For example:

1. ·     bicycles can take you to some interesting new places
2. ·     sitting on a bicycle saddle isn’t always comfortable
3. ·     let’s ride a bike across a state!   
4. ·     no?  maybe across the park to the bar, at least?

Well, my dear ol’ da and I have accomplished these bullet points!  Now we are sitting around a lot and I have decided to sit in an actual chair to relay to you these events 

As you are possibly aware, I enjoyed a BRANtastic voyage with Dad back in 2012, before I became the dad of former Baby Snot (now Snot Jr. 2).  Well, my dad’s been on four or five other BRANs since then, but I did not make it to another one until this year, 10 years after my maiden voyage!  I was looking forward to some moderate bicycling followed by some daily intensive hammock and mandolin time.  “Ah, this will be some good living!” I thought. Well, it certainly started out that way. Even before we boarded the Love Bus I was happy when Dad informed me that I didn’t need to box up my bike this time because there was a truck with hooks that would be transporting our bikes! So cool!  

I believe this is the first year that the event has been organized by the Omaha Pedalers, having formerly been piloted by the Rotary Club of Omaha Northwest.  Dad and I enjoyed a nice bus ride out to Alliance, NE, the home of Carhenge.  We set up my tent, a Kelty Gunnison 4.1 that had been sitting around in an unopened box in the basement since 2012. There was a great spot for the hammock too.  

After that we headed over to Carhenge, a place of interest in Nebraska that I hadn’t experienced previously.  It was wondrous!  

In addition to the cars possibly used as some form of calendar or for some druidic rituals, there are some fantastic sculptures, you can walk around, the birds like it, great place for photos, hi-jinks, etc.  

I normally would have stopped to check out the gift shop, but Dad wanted to get back to town for mass.  I had a nice relaxing time with the hammock and, once Dad got back, we enjoyed a wonderful meal over at Mi Ranchito.  I was very hungry and the food was abundant and the margaritas were refreshing and $1.99!  We made it back to the high school in time for most of the pre-ride meeting.  There we spoke of many things, including some reminders to use good bicycling etiquette, remembering the passing of a BRAN stalwart (Frank Perrone), welcoming a first-time BRANer (Scott Ussery), and celebrating the continuing presence of Al “The BRAN Man” Roeder on what was to be his last BRAN.  Unfortunately, Al experienced some medical issues and was forced to withdraw from this year’s BRAN.  It was great to have him on the bus with us from Wahoo, however, and he joked with me during our lunch stop in North Platte about how he used to have a red beard like mine and that I should appreciate it while it lasts.  Other in-memorium honorees were Ted Roche and Don Van Driest.  Ted was the long-time treasurer of the Omaha Pedalers and the support and gear (SAG) director for BRAN.  Don, although not a BRAN person, was an advocate for establishing multi-use trails, including the Cowboy Trail up around Highway 20 in the northern part of the state and the Field Club Trail corridor in the 36^th& Center area.

I am not sure how Al is doing now, but of course we all wish him a quick recovery from whatever caused his withdrawl.

Day 1 (Sunday, 6/5), Alliance to Hyannis:  After awakening and heading outside to get a sense of what this BRAN held in store I noted a woman creepily clowning to her partner inside the tent with the evocative line "Gimme your fingernails!"  I made it over to a table for a breakfast burrito and felt ready to ride!  

This was a delightful ride through some tranquil sandhill scenery.  The wetlands along Highway 2 were filled with many colorful birds.  Interestingly to me, there were many yellow-headed blackbirds interspersed with the red-winged variety.  Also some lesser scaups (or similar waterfowl).  We rode near the former town of Antioch (a potash boom town), which is often described as a Nebraska ghost town.  Ellsworth provided a comfortable lunch stop at the bowling alley and grounds.  

There were many homemade foods that I scarfed down greedily.  I also met a few different people, including John – a guy with a tuxedo jersey (like those tuxedo t-shirts)!  Way to make a great first impression!  There’s also a mega-weapons and leather gear shop at Ellsworth that was impressive in its size and scope.  I tried a packet of Beyond Meat Jerky that my wife, Mrs. Snot, had thoughtfully purchased.

It was a bit on the rubbery side and not highly recommended, although the nutritional content seemed pretty good. It was sunny, and this woman wisely applied some sunscreen before hopping on the highway.

I noted 3 dead turtles in the road – ornate box turtles.

Day 2 (Monday, 6/6) Hyannis to Thedford:  This day was similar to the first day.  I was excited to get to Thedford because I’d received a few emails that mentioned that you could go tubing on the Middle Loup River as long as you get there by the time the last trip left (3:00 p.m.) for the reasonable cost of $15!  So I tried to keep a good pace, and eventually succeeded in arriving in time for some very enjoyable, refreshing tubing.  But along the way I also read a few historical markers, including a fascinating account of Hecla, Nebraska – a town named after an Icelandic volcano.  We were also getting out into some serious windmill country, as evidenced by this awesome sculptural sign for Seven Pines Ranch.  The turtle mortality rate along this stretch of Highway 2 wasn’t quite as high, as I only noted a single dead ornate box turtle.

 I made it to the tubing bus with plenty of time to spare.  I was surprised that it really  wasn’t that busy – I’d mentioned the tubing to a few other riders and the interest level didn’t seem very high.  I think some riders just wanted to relax and conserve some energy.  However, in my experience, the revitalizing power of a comfortable float shouldn’t be taken lightly!  There were also a few tankers, including a Nebraska state senator, and a kayaker.  During approximately 2 hours of tubing we got about 30 minutes of stormy weather, including some lightning and winds.  

Just enough excitement to make the experience more memorable.  I also made the acquaintance of a nice couple from Wayne. I’ll call them Max and Lianna. They were fun and conversational and even offered me a beer once my supply was depeleted.  

When I got back to the old campsite, I got showered off and made it out to the Sandhills Correl where they had plenty of food and $5 margaritas.  I also met up with Max and Lianna and their friends.  They are an awesome group of people and it was really nice to spend some time with them.  We discussed why there weren’t too many younger riders.  I think the relatively serious nature of the event might be one reason – there are some days with a lot of miles and there’s no party atmosphere associated with BRAN (as opposed to RAGBRAI).  That’s probably why, at 50, I felt like I was a bit younger than the average BRANimal.

We got a smattering of rain that night and we found out that the rain fly leaked.  In the morning a quick inspection revealed that the clear plastic “window” was becoming detached from the rest of the nylon rain fly. This is apparently fairly common as Kelty’s website includes the following information in the FAQs:

My window is falling out of my rainfly is that something you can repair / replace? Print

Modified on: Fri, 19 Mar, 2021 at 12:36 PM

---

Our repair team is able to replace windows in your rainfly. If your window is too damaged our repair team may have to replace it with non see through fabric. 

Day 3 (Tuesday, 6/7) Thedford to Callaway:  This day seemed to me to be a little more off-the-beaten path as we turned south off of Highway 2 and onto Arnold Road at Dunning.  The morning started with a nice conversation with a fellow BRANimal who happened to be 10 years my senior.  We talked a bit about how the rain got inside both of our tents.  Then he helped me compress my large Bigfoot tote so I could zip it.  It turned out he was not going to ride that day due to some serious pain in his knee. Pain that he hadn’t experienced before. This was understandably bumming him out a bit.  But, fortunately, he had a few things to look forward to.  It turned out that he’s planning on attending a motorcycle rally with his son in Missouri.  It just so happened that it is a BMW rally and that it is the 50^thanniversary of the R75/5, which is a type of motorbike that I owned for a couple years back before the turn of the century!  

Anyway, he seemed like a great guy and I appreciated his willingness to lend me a helping hand even though he was undergoing some frustration.  It later occurred to me that this is probably one of the best ways to deal with pain and frustration.  Take your mind off it by helping someone else or making a connection with someone.  

Another thing that I learned about during this BRAN was that I need to make sure the top of my head is covered during outdoor events (i.e., no more visors) unless I want a sunburned pate! 

The ride itself was a pleasant, pastoral experience.  Ten miles or so down the road I came across a painted turtle basking in the middle of the road – right on the faded painted yellow line!  

I was concerned for turtle’s safety.  So I picked him up and moved him slowly off to the side of the road in the direction he was facing.  

This day also featured a lovely climb and overlook into some lovely valleys.  This location is also just a bit northwest of an area known as the seven valleys.  Here is a map:

Descending into Arnold, we seemed to be temporarily exiting the Sandhills as we entered the Middle Loup River Valley.  Arnold was nice and the people were quite friendly and talkative.  Some of the volunteers at the community center attempted to prevent Snot Sr. from leaving since Arnold is in need of a school band teacher.  There is an old one-room schoolhouse that has been renovated into a bed and breakfast. I attempted to find the famous Rialto Theater, mentioned in our BRAN 40.2 Tour Guide, but I apparently did not understand the directions I received, so here’s a photo from the internet:

 

I can see why I missed it, because it doesn’t really have the standard theater-front marquis.  This turned out to be the highest mileage day as we had to take a detour around Highway 92 between Arnold and Callaway because part of that road had apparently gotten flooded and was now impassable. So we took Highway 40 and, after our arrival in Callaway, Strava congratulated me on 90.15 miles of pedaling! Turtle tally:  1 live painted turtle in road, 1 dead ornate box turtle on the road.

 At Callaway, Dad and I made it down to Shotgun Annie’s and got a nice hearty meal with some delicious salads and some local beers.  A poster portraying President Barack Obama as an outlaw wanted for treason confused me and reminded me that this is the red part of our state.  After dinner/supper we made it back to the field by the high school where our tent was pitched.  Doug, our fearless leader and BRAN organizer, was busy informing us that there was a good chance of some bad weather that could include hail and made sure we were all aware that we could sleep in the gym.   Dad and I decided to stay in our comfy shelter, however, and it turned out alright:  we got some heavy rain, but it didn’t last long, and I discovered the rain fly still leaked a bit in one area where the duct tape hadn’t turned out to be as good as it was quacked up to be.  However, it wasn’t too bad (just a small, isolated area and I was able to just move my ridiculously cushy 14-inch air mattress in from the tent wall a bit and cover my suitcase with my rain jacket to avoid the water).

 Day 4 (Wednesday, 6/8) Callaway to Ord:  This was another hilly and scenic day as we rode through Broken Bow, past the turn-off to Kinkaider Brewery, past Comstock (where the windmills were looking fabulous and things were getting set up for Windmill Fest), 

and on to Ord.  Prior to Broken Bow, we ascended Democrat Hill, a scenic and pleasant climb with quite a few mellow grades on the way up.  Along the way there was a large wind farm - Broken Bow 2 and this scenic SAG stop where Sandy (the pickle lady) and Denny seemed to be in good spirits as always. 

Sandy always maintained a good supply of pickles, pickle juice, and peanut butter.  I am a fan of all of these, but I determined that I don't really like to mix them (an opinion that is certainly not for everyone).

 I was feeling pretty tired and hot as I rolled in to Ord.  I relaxed in the shade for a while and eventually ambled over to the campground area where I found Snot Sr. having some mild difficulties with the tent poles.  

We teamed up to construct our shelter after I taped our rain fly more thoroughly (more duct tape along pretty much the entire seam and tape on inside as well as outside).

Then we rode our bikes a short distance to the downtown area where we enjoyed some food at Carl’s (very nice, comfortable place with friendly people and good food and drinks) and a quick stop over at Scratchtown Brewing Co. for a satisfying beer, a hat to try to help protect my balding pate, and some live music on the patio.  It was there I met Dan who told me about his experience with the Windmill Fest over the years.  He said he’d helped out with the festival a few times.  There had been some crazy times.  I think the festival used to be much bigger and there used to be a couple rock days and a couple country days (vs. the current event just featured young country artists).  He told me that during the rock show days at one of the campground he saw his first streaker – a naked guy went running by being chased by four girls!  There was apparently also a wet t-shirt contest as part of the festivities back in those hedonistic days!  Things back at the BRAN campground were quite a bit more sedate: wet clothing was relegated to some temporarily strung clotheslines.

 Day 5 (Thursday, 6/9) Ord to St. Edward:  These two guys (Ryan and Lance) loaded up the truck every day.  

They also discussed classic rock from time to time – On Day 1 I happened to hear Ryan mention that “God Only Knows” was Paul McCartney's favorite song and is Brian Wilson’s magnum opus (I’d argue it was “Good Vibrations,” but I’m certainly no subject-matter expert).  I was certainly experiencing some good vibrations as I departed the enjoyable oasis of Ord.  Here is a fascinating and creative landscaping sculpture I enjoyed whilst rolling out on Highway 11.

Dad’s 16-year-old Pearl Izumi shoes were not faring well at this point, so we duct taped the front part of the shoes back together before we left.  

It was on this day that I first tried a mixture that I had overheard someone talking about at Phil’s SAG stop (the 2^ndone each day).  It was referred to, in reverent tones, as “jet fuel” and consisted of one Styrofoam cup filled with hot water, one instant oatmeal packet, and a generous scoop of instant vanilla espresso (I think there was a non-vanilla option too) mix.  It tastes really good and the effect was a long-lasting energy that also made me feel happier and satisfied my caffeine addiction.  

I stopped at Scotia to mail a postcard and take a picture of the chalk building.    

I stopped at a convenience store at Cedar Rapids to avoid a sudden moderate rain and to purchase a red wine called “Work Horse” that was bottled at a vineyard in nearby St. Paul. 

My stay at St. Edwards was delightful!  Everything we needed was at the 1-year-old community center that was spacious and filled with kind people, delicious food, and beer.  There was a photographic presentation about the local area, with prints for sale.  For dinner, I enjoyed a fantastic falafel wrap and a delicious pie with ice cream for dessert.  There was a band playing some old-timey country/bluegrass-flavored tunes out on the bandstand at City Park– the Root Marm Chicken Farm Jug Band.  

And the next morning they had a delicious pancake breakfast!

 Day 6 (Friday, 6/10) St. Edward to Shelby:  I pedaled off happily in the morning and soon I was enjoying the power of jet fuel as I rode out onto Highway 39.  This was a short day, only 44.9 miles.  I stopped in Genoa to pick up a new pair of sunglasses and some more duct tape (just in case).  There is an Indian School Museum here as well.  Between Genoa and Osceola just after catching a glimpse of Silver Creek, where the town brand is reportedly “a glimmer on Highway 30,” we crossed the Platte River.  I paused for some chatting with a couple of fellow Omahans.  Matt was the only guy I noticed riding a single speed for this BRAN. And Mike had some voluminous panniers and was interested in doing some self-supported bicycle touring at some point, but hadn’t been able to get a trip scheduled yet.  I had seen these guys a few times as they were in a group that was also riding at a rather leisurely pace as compared to the median-pace BRANimal.  Matt was riding a nice looking All-City with some pretty low gearing for his Omaha commute, which sounded pretty hilly.  By the time I reached Osceola, I was ready for some lunch and I found a good one at Andrea’s Family Diner.  I had a cheese quesadilla and fried cauliflower with ranch along with an ice tea. Osceola has a nice town square on top of a hill with quite a few little shops.  I managed to accidentally wander off the main highway after lunch and enjoyed some solitary time on the gravel roads south of Highway 81.  Once I rolled into Shelby, I was feeling a little warm, so I didn’t waste much time getting over to the swimming pool where I found that BRAN riders were granted free admission!  That water was so cool and refreshing!  Afterwards I went down to main street and had a burrito from a food truck and a few beers.  Back at the campsite it had cooled down some and I felt like my mandolin songs were finally sounding pretty good.  I sat at a picnic table and was joined by a few people who stayed around to listen and chat about music for a while.  It was kind of an early night, but when I got back to the tent I noticed that I had a Kinkaider beer (Dan the Wiser) left in my bag so I stayed up to read for a while (and then had to get up to pee two times because I had a beer right before bed! Note to self:  get a pee bottle next time I have a beer before bed if I’m camping at a crowded campsite with lighting.)

 Day 7 (Saturday, 6/11) Shelby to Wahoo:  I enjoyed another fantastic pancake breakfast provided at the high school gym.  I was feeling neglectful this morning as I realized I hadn’t yet deployed my Sony Action Cam to record the splendours of our state.  So I set the camera to take a photo every minute and awkwardly strapped the camera to my helmet (I don’t use this often enough to be proficient and I feel like the strap system isn’t very user friendly).  Unfortunately the stretch of highway photographed was not as scenic as the previous days and there was a serious glare from the sun.  I have to say at this point that I’m not crazy about the ActionCam due to some logistical issues deploying it and the fact that it only comes with hardware to strap to the side of a bicycle helmet.  What am I supposed to do, get another one to strap to the other side to balance things out?  

Anyway, after I took off the AC so I wouldn’t have to gripe to myself anymore, I stopped to snap a few photos of some of the awesome people I met during this ride.  

So much fun!  I am grateful to Dad for getting me out there to ride across the state and I might even do it again some time.  Thanks to everyone who worked hard to make this ride happen after having to postpone it for the past two tries.  There was even a nice after-party with hot dogs, chips, and cookies.  

 

BRANimalistically yours,

BSO    

 

Afterwards

The Kelty team has been easy to work with.  I sent the rain fly in and requested the “non see through” (opaque) fabric, as I wasn’t entirely convinced that these windows formed a structurally-sound, durable part of the rain fly.  Also, if I’ve got the rain fly on, then I generally don’t really feel interested in gazing up out of the rain fly window at the rain pelting the rain fly.  

7/1:  I already got the rain fly back and, although it still has windows, the clear plastic seems to be stitched onto the rest of the rain fly so I am hopeful that it will hold together for a few more years.  

 

Over the wintry

 March 2029, April 2, 2022

Happy belated Vernal Equinox, my fellow Earthers!

I hope you are ready for springing into seasonal activities.  I am certainly ready to begin some gardening and maybe some extra outdoor activities like camping and some longer bicycle rides.  After all, I do need to get some miles in to be ready for BRAN.

Prior to the arrival of spring, I was pleased to be able to spend some time with my friend Rich trying out some backcountry lite skiing with the good folks from Bluebird Backcountry, near Walden, Colorado.  It is a beautiful area and doesn’t involve quite as many people and fees as the resort. 

A trip of this magnitude is not particularly common for this curmudgeonly 50-year-old, so I will provide a relatively in-depth recap of the journey as I recall it.  So make yourself a nice cup of tea and prepare to kick back and read in amusement and/or bemusement.  Alternatively, you could just kind of skim a few of the paragraphs that seem most interesting.

Rich and I got a pretty early start with my old telemark skis and boots and a couple bags of luggage. On our way from Omaha to Steamboat Springs we stopped at A Taste of India restaurant at the Overton exit.  It is a unique stop and one that I recommend. If you want to limit your wait time you can call in your order.  Last time it took about 30 minutes from call-in time to food-ready time.  The folks there are nice.  I like everything I’ve ordered there except the malai kofta. They’ve also got some Indian grocery items for sale.  Upon Rich’s realization that he did not have a swimsuit, we also stopped at the Ogalalla Walmart which had an excellent selection of swimwear.  We also decided to stop at the Sportsman’s Warehouse in Cheyenne to buy some poop bags, based on Bluebird’s recommended equipment list. It is a nice establishment and one that I certainly recommend.  There is also a Nepalese restaurant called Durbar in the same shopping center area that I look forward to trying at some point.  We made it into Steamboat Springs by around 7 p.m. and went to How Ya Doin’ Pizza, right next to Storm Peak Brewery, which we enjoyed last time we were in town.  I had a tasty pizza with a delicious combination of vegetables and a tasty brown ale of some kind.  The next day we got up early, ate some oatmeal mixed with trail mix (great combo, except the peanuts didn't seem too harmonious) and headed out to Bluebird Backcountry whose pre-arrival directions indicated we should arrive about an hour early to allow time for getting rental gear, making sure our various passes were in order, etc.  The road in to the basecamp area was relatively well-plowed and fairly easy to travel.  But it was a dirt road with no gravel to speak of and just a few rocky and icy areas. My car is a 2014 Hyundai Accent.  

Anyhow, we arrived and got situated, met our instructor – an affable fellow named Aiden – and chatted with Charlotte and Amy, who were also signed up for Backcountry 1.  It was a beautiful day.  Most participants seemed to have rental skis:  I think it is what is referred to as an alpine touring (AT) setup with Dynafit bindings.  Those skis were a bit wider than my old tele skis.  However, I bought my skis back in 2005 or so, and I would be damned if I didn’t give ‘em a chance to do some climbing before it was all said and done! Well, they mostly worked just fine. I brought up the rear and fell down a few times on the downhills.  No one seemed to mind and we had a good time learning the basics and even getting fed bacon by a very kind fellow from London who was manning the hospitality hut at The Perch area.  I bought skis on the long side based on some kind of chart I found online back in 2009:  179 cm when I really do much better and feel more in control with 165 cm; however, I didn't know that back then and I liked the idea of more stability based on a longer ski.  Anyway, after completing our course we were encouraged to tool around as much as we liked.  I confided to Aiden that I was somewhat concerned about hitting a tree.  He mentioned that we might want to take the direct route back down to the basecamp.  However, he seemed pretty enthusiastic about a forested route called “The Shire.” So, after some “skinning” up onto a ridge we got to a slope that headed down towards The Shire where we were pleased to note our new acquaintances, Charlotte and Amy, calmly and assuredly navigating their way through the relatively dense trees.  Their speed control was admirable and it did not look daunting in the least.  That sets the stage for this video, which follows the trials and tribulations of two Nebraskiers making their way gradually back towards the basecamp.

 

So it wasn’t easy, especially for Rich who kept sinking into the snow down to his crotch.  Mostly one leg at a time, but occasionally both.  I also fell down and it was quite a struggle to get up due to the powdery nature of the snow which allowed you to sink in pretty easily.   After a few of these types of incidents and some considering of the pros and cons, we applied our skins to limit our sliding and to improve our control. We eventually made it back to basecamp at around 3:40 where, it turns out, they liked everyone to be off the slopes by 4 p.m.   My feet were a bit sore from pushing myself around most of the day, but I was generally feeling pretty good.  Rich had a sore ankle and was clearly tired from digging himself out of the snow repeatedly, but still his usual upbeat self.  Overall a great introduction to backcountry skiing.  

The day had warmed significantly.  The sun's warmth felt great while we were out there skiing; however, the road consistency had become pretty slippery and boggy in places.  I watched a few vehicles get towed out by a patient, good-humored, and proficient Bluebird employee or possibly just a friendly frequent skier.  Although that seemed like a good option for the Accent, I soon realized the Hyundai was not equipped with a tow hook/clevice or a front bumper that could accommodate a strap.  I walked up the road for a ways and formulated a general strategy that I could summarize thusly:  don’t stop, choose a good line, and stay out of the deep puddles.  So, after coming to terms with this general approach, I planned on firing up the Accent and backing up to an icy area that was pretty flat and appeared to be pretty firm.  However, my front tyres had found a slippery, icy depression that did kept me from achieving this modest goal.  Rich pushed. Rich pushed again.  A couple of beer-toting fellows walked past and affably returned my greeting.  After it was agreed upon that my vehicle was not ideally suited to its current circumstances:  “Sporty!” quipped one of our soon-to-be-saviors, our benefactors set their beers down in a convenient snow shelf and had at it.  Repeatedly. There was a whole zone of icy hummocks. The Accent slid from side to side. She bucked.  She whinnied.  We (and by we I mean everyone who was actually exerting themselves, which did not include me) stopped, rested, and agreed upon a good line to get onto solid ground. Eventually, our team's efforts were rewarded! Rich and I profusely thanked these good Samaritans.

  

This whole time, I was kind of locked in on the road conditions and the exit.  I had not realized that I hadn’t yet returned my expertly designed ski backpack with avalanche kit compartments.  I say “expertly designed” because it seemed to have enough capacity for plenty of items (i.e., 70-oz Camelbak, heavy fleece, outside/stowable straps for helmet, several Clif bars) and yet didn’t extend laterally or vertically enough to interfere with my range of motion.  I don’t recall even noticing the pack during my adventure.  So I took it back to basecamp where the staff was undergoing their after-hours meeting/debriefing.  I also chatted with an employee who helped solidify my strategy. His recommendations?:  go fast on the straights and slow around the corners. He also provided two general options: 1) wait until the sun sets and things firm up a bit, or 2) if you go now, there will be many employees leaving soon thereafter so, if you get stuck, there will be some people behind you who may actually need to push us out so that we’re not blocking the road.  Since we didn’t have any beer (I know, the shame is rekindled) or satisfying meal-worthy foodstuffs, I decided that option 2 was preferable.  

So I gunned it!  We made it through the early stretch with some moderate banging of the undercarriage on some mud and ice.  I just picked my lines and punched it! Bam!  Bam!  Things got intense.  Then they got real intense when I got to a soupy corner.  I came in hot.  I started sliding downhill to the outside of the turn, down into a soupy void/ditch.  I kept the wheels turned, slowed a bit and then accelerated evenly as the car seemed to be sliding inevitably towards the muddy maw of the thawed road.  Rich was ahootin’ and ahollerin’ either “No!  No!  No!” or “Go! Go!  Go!”, which we did.  The rest of the 2 mile course featured just a few more turns, which I took a bit more slowly and gradually, and a whole lot of rutted, puddly dirt which I hit pretty fast and tried to find the shallows.  There were some impacts to the undercarriage, and some mud splashing every which way, but visibility remained and we eventually made it back to the highway!  Huzzah! 

 

We decided we weren’t going back the next day, even though I had imprudently purchased a 4-day pass. Dang it!  

 

So, that evening we had a delicious meal and a couple beers at Dude & Dan's, a bar with some delicious gourmet menu items.  A nice soak in the hot tub felt good that evening and the next day we were ready to hit the resort.  First we watched a ski tutorial by Jens, which I highly recommend.  

One $245 lift ticket and a $40 ski rental later and we were on the slopes!  Although we hadn’t been out there for two years, I felt like my skiing had improved since then.  Rich and I started on the greens, but finished up on some pretty steep and challenging-to-us runs.  The last one we did was called “Heavenly Daze” and featured a beautiful view of Steamboat Springs below.  

It almost looked like you could fall off the slope in some places and, defying gravity, perhaps with a slight boost from an updraft, plummet down into town.  All in all, we had another great day and enjoyed some excellent, warm skiing conditions.  There were just a few icy spots on Vertigo, but they weren’t bad: skiers in the eastern part of the U.S. probably wouldn’t even consider it worth mentioning.   

 

Whilst enjoying the wintery sliding fun I mentioned the snow forecast in the afternoon to some of my fellow lift riders; however, they poo-poohed the potential precip, suggesting one to three inches.  Indeed, as we were leaving Steamboat Springs, there wasn’t much more than a dusting. The same up by Rabbit Ears Pass. However, once we got down into the lowlands between Cowdrey and Laramie it got a bit icy and slushy.  On the other hand, the visibility was poor, so there was that.  Traffic wasn’t bad, and it seemed to have emboldened the local apex predators in the vicinity of the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest because we beheld a couple of healthy-looking wolves hanging around out in the pastureland.  No, we didn’t get photos because we were too busy gawking and keeping my eyes on the road.  A short stretch of Interstate 80 was closed, but we had a fairly easy detour just outside Laramie along Highway 210.  We stopped in Cheyenne for some breakfast, but I didn’t want to stop to eat inside because the snow was wet, heavy, and piling up fast – not the Accent’s forte.  So we drove on as I ruminated upon my Subway Veggie sub and cookies.  The traffic along I-80 was a bit of a jumbled mess, with packed down snow, snow plows, as well as numerous truck trailers overturned and resultant lane closures.  The snow gradually tapered off as we headed east.  Somewhere between North Platte and Gothenburg we were pretty much snow free. A scraping noise from beneath the vehicle reminded me of the snow and ice:  I figured it was probably some ice stuck in the wheel wells or something similar. Well, I guess it was, if you consider a broken, dragging undercarriage-protector something similar. I tore off the broken piece and stowed it in the boot (i.e., trunk).  We stopped in Overton for some more Indian food (phoned it in this time to expedite the process) and that’s where I removed part of the undercarriage armour.  Unfortunately, that piece was not a big part of the problem because, as we were leaving the Taste of India, the dragging sound persisted.  I removed the rest of the undercarriage plate.  This part was bigger, so I decided to lay it to rest in a handy Overton dumpster.  

I’m not sure if I’ll replace that part, since I don’t drive on gravel roads much, but I’ll be sure to let you know how that all turns out.  I guess it's called a "splash shield."

 

Here’s another thing I’ll let you know about: looks like there’s an e-bike shop that just opened down at 144^thand F or so:  Pedego Electric Bikes!

I was a bit surprised to see this impending business model, as I guess I always figured the e-bikes would just get incorporated into the existing bicycle/velocipede shoppes. But, I guess there is a potentially different demographic that doesn’t really care if it's associated with the traditional bicycling model.  

No matter how you roll, we all can agree it’s the heart that brings you back.  I ain’t telling you no lie.

May the road take you somewhere beautiful and/or may your engine be undamaged by debris/water/minimum maintenance roads.

Springly regards,

BSO