R16 13 Casey. Casey's. Oasis. And Blue Geese.

Then we did this. 

Back out into the heat. We continued along the White Pole Road. It got a bit more interesting in this stretch: a curve here, a bit of a hill here. All of this smeared across the landscape by the combined effects of shimmering heat off the road and heat stroke blinding me.

Thankfully, it wasn't long until we were in the little town of Casey. There wasn't really much going on there. Just a Casey's on the main intersection, but across the road, kitty-corner was a little town park with a little park shelter. And there was Dan! And his power van!

Steven was already there, relaxing in the shade, wiping herself with a frozen paper towel and drinking a beer--both provided by Dan. I dumped the bike on the side of the road and stumbled down the little embankment to the shelter. Uuuuggghhh.

Dan, our saint, brought me a mini-Gatorade, a Coors Light, and a frozen paper towel, and I tried to take a bit of a nap on a picnic table. But then the rest of the Recumbent Mafia showed up, and I felt a bit silly, sprawled out on a picnic table like an overheated, beached manatee.

Under the shade of the shelter, the Recumbent Mafia made some rearrangements. A couple of the ladies were done for the day, and decided to take over the driving, and Dan was going to get on the road. We talked about that and about cool bike trips they had done--around Mexico, all the way out to Washington DC (with Smitty!). It was nice.

With the RM! 

Soon the RM were underway and we waved them off. Steven and I hit the gas station for a pee break and supplies (ie water and Gatorade). Out in the parking lot, as we started our stereos and transferred water into bottles, a dude in a big truck asked us where we were headed. We told him Anita.

"Oh, that is a great ride! All downhill from Adair into Anita. You can just get on that road and fly," he told us.

"Um, do you ride bikes?"

"I do! All the time!" he replied and we decided to trust him and have some hope.

Meanwhile, we got a voicemail from Dan, who was a few miles ahead, "you girls better get on the road! There's a tailwind into Adair! Whoo-hoo!"

So many positive bike vibes! And so on the road we got. And it was pretty good. Nice and flat along the railroad line, with hills rising up from the river valley on either side of us, and big rolling hills that are only found in western Iowa.

Soon we were climbing up a long hill, and then curving to the south, right into the blast of the south west wind. Walking the other way was a pedestrian, which is the only thing more strange than a pack of touring cyclists. There'd been rumors of him walking around the area. All said with suspicious middle-aged lady eyes.

At the top of the hill I could see the RM's van. They were parked in a driveway, offering water and support. Before I could get to them, I just had to stop and take a breakie. My brain was melting down. I needed to just stop for a minute. So, I pulled over and leaned onto the fern covered hill and just stared and drank water. Stare. Sip. Stare. Sip.

Eventually the RM ladies walked down to check on me. I told them I was "okay." They told me that they cheered Steven on as she rode up the big hill. She had good momentum and was rolling. They gave me a bottle of water and a smile and some encouragement.

I got back on my bike.

It wasn't that far into Adair, but FMD did it suck. It was the blast furnace of the afternoon. Somehow, barely, I dragged my ass into the city limits of Adair, crawled up the hill, and found Steven waiting for me on the side the road.

Together, we wound our way to main street. It looked like an old west movie. At the end of the street was a pizza joint, but it wasn't open for another hour, so we parked the bikes and walked into my new house: The Blue Goose.