Day 25: Rocky Ford to Eads

Ride Stats:

Distance - 74 mi

Avg Speed - 10.4 mph

Climbed - 1050 ft

Temps - 55 to 105 F

Before leaving the motel room, I luckily thought to check my tire pressures and discovered the back tire had lost quite a bit. I unloaded the bike, flipped it over and began inspecting the rear tire. Sure enough, I found a thorn stuck into the edge of the bottom tread, near the sidewall. When I pulled it out, the hissing commenced. The good news is that I wasn't doing this on the side of the road, but in the comfort of my motel room. With the leak located, I was able to patch the tube without removing the wheel or tire; but it still set me back a half hour or so. Next was breakfast at a gas station mini-mart, and then on the road at about 7 am.

My motel proprietor had shown me on a map where to find the actual "rocky ford" Santa Fe Trail crossing of the Arkansas River, so I set out in that direction. There was an old stone marker with a plaque by the side of the road, corroborating his story, and pointing to a spot about a half mile off the road. It was on posted private property, and a dirt road was the only access. I passed up the opportunity to hike back to it, but at least I know where it is for future reference.

The only problem with being back in the flatlands is that you just assume the ideal riding conditions are going to persist all day, so you take your time. Unfortunately, the wind is fickle; and today was an example of where it just pounded me in the face for the last 3 hours of the ride. It seems to pick up intensity after 11 am, so I just need to get an earlier start and not dawdle.

Here's a view of the Arkansas River, pretty close to where the Santa Fe Trail crossed it, at the time into Mexican territory.

Just my shadow and me.

At the beginning of a long stretch on Hwy 96, they acknowledge it's a popular bike route. The bottom sign calls it the "Prairie Horizons Trail." That's a good name for it.

I thought this was an interesting view of the progression of communications from telegraph wires along the railroad on the left, to telephone wires on the right, to a cell phone tower in the distance.

Little Haswell, Colorado was the town I was counting on for lunch,and when I didn't see a restaurant I stopped in to ask the friendly Post Office Clerk. She assured me that I just needed to go a little further down the road, but also suggested I ride up the street to see the "Nations Smallest Jail."

Here is The Nations Smallest Jail. The sign was broken and laying on the ground, but I confirmed it is a pretty small jail.