July 6, 2006
Day 35: Eads, CO to Ordway, CO
62.13 Miles, 4:49:48 Ride Time, 13.08 Average Speed, 25.7 Maximum Speed
I was outside my motel room, getting things ready, when a twenty-something guy came up and asked if I was riding across the country. I said yes, and he told me that he and his wife had done the trip five years ago for their honeymoon.
After a quick trip to the lobby for breakfast, I came back out to find the guy, his wife, and Johnny and Henny talking. I said goodbye and rode off.
It was windier today, more a crosswind than the tailwind I had enjoyed the last few days. I was still riding on 96, as I had for days.
I arrived in the little town of Haswell after 23 miles. One of the eastbound riders yesterday had told me yesterday that there was nothing in the town, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a gas station open. This was an actual old-style gas station, with a few snacks and drinks - not a convenience store.
I bought a few snacks and was signing the gas station's cyclist logbook (the first one I'd seen in a while), when Johnny and Henny showed up. The locals in the gas station were, somewhat surprisingly, watching the Tour de France on the television, and I realized that between the local people and Johnny and Henny, I knew less about the riders than anyone in the room.
One of the old guys hanging around the gas station told us we should check out what is apparently Haswell's claim to fame - "The Nation's Smallest Jail", which was a few blocks away. The three of us dutifully checked it out, and yes - it certainly was very small
After taking a few pictures of the Smallest Jail, I rode back on 96, a mile or so behind my Dutch friends. Halfway to Ordway, my destination for the day, the wind started gusting more strongly. A large truck passed me, so I moved close to the edge of the road. A strong gust of wind blew me off the pavement into the gravel; I should have rolled to a stop in the gravel and weeds, but instead I tried to get back on the pavement. This was not a smart move, since the asphalt was about three inches higher than the gravel. I was moving too slowly to get up onto the pavement, and, still clipped in, fell.
I landed on my left knee and elbow, partially breaking my fall with my left hand and arm. After the initial shock of the fall had subsided, I checked myself and the bike out. Some skin had been torn off my elbow and knee, and they were both bleeding. Nothing appeared to be broken. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the bicycle; one pannier had fallen off, but it snapped back on easily.
After bandaging my knee and elbow, I stood around for a few minutes; I was still a little shaky. I soon felt well enough to start riding (albeit more slowly and carefully) the 30 miles to Ordway.
A few miles down the road, a motorcyclist slowed down beside me; he said he was interested in buying a bicycle, and wanted to know what brand I recommended. This was certainly a first. Later the young couple I had met earlier at the motel pulled up and asked if I needed anything; while I was telling them thanks, but I was fine, they noticed my bleeding knee, and I had to explain that I had stupidly taken a fall a few miles back.
After several miles, I met Johnny and Henny, who were talking to an older eastbound couple, whose tandem bike was memorably adorned with US and John Deere flags (the man had retired from John Deere).
By now, my arm was starting to swell and hurt, and I rode mostly one-handed. We stopped at a cafe in Sugar City, about five miles from Ordway, where I managed to eat some pie despite feeling increasingly nauseated. The women at the cafe put some ice in a ziplock bag for me, which I held against my arm for the last few miles to Ordway.
When I got to Ordway (pop. 1,248), I rode immediately to the only hotel (The Hotel Ordway, appropriately enough), where I found Doug, Johnny, Henny, and three westbound cyclists: Rick Barder from Wisconsin, and Roger and Chris Hardman from London, England.
There was no one to check us in - a sign at the desk said that the owner would be back "later", so after sitting around for 15 or 20 minutes, I decided to see if I could find a doctor in town. I walked downtown and found the Centennial Family Health Center. The women at the clinic, Karen Tomky and Pat Nelson, were kind enough to see me quickly, even though I obviously didn't have an appointment. I had x-rays [no evidence of broken bones at the time, but unfortunately I learned when I got home that the scaphoid was fractured], a tetanus shot (my first one in 30 years), and a got a wrist brace and a prescription for painkillers.
After filling the prescription, I walked back to the hotel and checked in. After I got cleaned up, I walked back downtown to the bar where the others were having the traditional after-ride beers (and I had my usual Diet Pepsi). Then we walked across the street to the Bits & Spurs Cafe for dinner, where, despite the painful effects of my dumb accident, I had a good time.
After dinner we walked back to the hotel, talked to the owner for a while, then took a few group pictures. The owner of the hotel, an apparently religious woman, asked if I would like to participate in a "group healing" for my (minor) injuries. I somewhat sheepishly agreed (it couldn't hurt, right?). The "group healing" consisted of the hotel's owner saying a brief prayer while the rest of us stood in a circle.
Shortly after that, I went to my room, took my prescription Ibuprofen (in case the group healing didn't prove completely effective), and fell into a deep sleep, which was interrupted once in the middle of the night by a thunderstorm strong enough to knock out the power in the hotel.
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Today's ride: 62 miles (100 km)
Total: 2,283 miles (3,674 km)
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