July 1, 2013
The Stinkiest Town I Have Ever Traveled Through
Day 8: Lewellen, Nebraska to Harrisburg, Nebraska
I was the only guest at the Gander Inn, and the owner made me an excellent custom breakfast. While I was eating, I half watched the FOX news morning television program. I had not been paying any attention to national "news" while on the tour, and I hadn't heard any of it discussed among the small-town people I'd encountered, who obviously have more important things to think and talk about. After watching fifteen minutes of the manufactured political controversy, the panting coverage of some murder trial, etc. the conclusion I reached is this: It's all a bunch of bullshit.
Back on the road, I had several nice miles. The scenery was unexceptional: Fields and an ever-present railroad track next to the road. But it was cool and overcast, I had a tailwind, so I enjoyed zooming along at 16 mph. Traffic was moderate, but there was an ever-present shoulder, so it wasn't bad at all.
Oshkosh was an attractive small town where I lingered long enough to buy a patch kit at a True Value hardware store. The next town, Lisco, was tiny, and didn't have much except the first town sign featuring the elevation (3,496 feet), and a main street that featured pea-sized gravel so loose that I came very close to falling down at 3.5 mph, in front of an elderly woman walking her dog. I assume this would have been the most exciting event in Lisco that day.
The next town, Broadwater, earned the distinction as the stinkiest town I have ever traveled through, thanks to the central presence of a feedlot. There was one really nice, well maintained house in the middle of junky, smelly Broadwater. I wonder how they are motivated to keep their place looking so nice. There was a store, where I purchased Gatorade, but had trouble getting the attention of the clerk, who appeared to be chatting with a woman on the internet. This bathroom had a sign inside stating "If you like our bathroom, we'd like your business." I had already made my purchases, so I peed guilt-free.
The road I was on this morning was part of the historic trail the Mormons followed to reach Zion (which you might have heard called "Utah.") I stopped and read several historical markers about this. Apparently the Mormons spent a lot of time looking at the rock formations and seeing imaginary "frog's heads" and such. I lack the Mormon's imaginations, and saw only rocks.
Bridgeport, up the road, was a relatively populous 1545 people. I didn't know where I was staying today, so I stopped at the Pioneer Trails Museum, where super-employee Darlene proceeded to make calls on my behalf. I walked next door to a restaurant and had lasagna, which included a salad bar. Not a salad fan, I had never investigated one of these "salad bars", so for the first time I actually made myself a salad. Surprisingly edible, especially with lots of cheese and hard boiled eggs. Who would have known?
I walked back to the museum to find that Darlene had secured me a camping spot on the grounds of another museum, in the tiny, tiny town of Harrisburg. So, after a tour of the museum, and a stop at a gas station to fill up on water, off I rode for another forty empty miles to reach Harrisburg. Earlier I had learned that Harrisburg, population about 100 people, is the only town in Banner County, a county in which there is no place to purchase gasoline. Now that's empty.
I did not see a single person in Harrisburg. There appeared to be no store. There appeared to be no pop machine. There was a porta-pottie and a water spigot, which were enough.
I set up my tent in the dusk next to the museum and fell asleep promptly.
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Today's ride: 101 miles (163 km)
Total: 696 miles (1,120 km)
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