R16 18 The Big Melt Down

Nishnabotna Means Angel of Death

After taking some mockery from the guys in the bar in Hancock, and settling up our bill, we stepped back outside in the conflagration that was south western Iowa. I put my left over sandwich into the solar oven of my panniers and we mounted up and headed out of town. Just a quick 6 miles into Oakland. It wasn’t even that late in the day!

Steven, sensing my emotional state, put on her tunes and tried to stay in front of me to protect me from the wind. It helps, it does, but Steven and her bike are so skinny, that it only helps a little! I appreciated the moral support, but I just could not keep up. Eventually, she was pulling ahead.

But it didn’t take long for us to see the plant and the hills that rose above Oakland. Maybe we would make it after all. I started up the first hill and teetered over the top. I went up the next hill, slowing, slowing, slowing, and done. I hopped up off take a mental health moment. My skull felt like that sandwich in a black waterproof pannier. I pushed a few steps. I tried to get back on the bike, but found that I couldn’t get enough forward momentum to get moving. I pushed a bit more. Made it to the top of that hill, and then coasted down.

Then, I came to what looked like the last hill into town. I made it about halfway up and it just fucking broke me. I stopped on the side of the road. I started pushing. And then, I started crying. I walked up to a driveway and found a tree. It was behind a hillock so I left my bike on the side of the road in case Steven looked back. I sat down under that tree and weeped. Just cried like a baby. It was just too much.

I drank water and I cried. And, then, I got back on my bike. Still crying! I crept to the top of the hill into town. I turned when I saw the swimming pool. I thought we had talked about the swimming pool? Was Steven here? I didn’t see her. I did she another tree and some grass. One of those weird wedges of grass, in between a park complex and the road. And I parked the bike. And I sat down, and I just started weeping. Gasping, sobbing, wailing, keening.

I looked down the road to where town probably was. It was a huge hill, down. We didn’t have a solid plan when we got to town. We were supposed to call a guy, so I figured Steven would wait for me up here so we could figure things out. But she wasn’t here. And I knew, I just knew, that if I got ot the bottom of that fucking hill, there was no way I would make it back up it again. I was just devastated. Mind, body, spirit.

And so I called Steven. She was at the bottom of the hill. Waiting by a bar she had found. Through my tears, I tried to explain that I just couldn’t do it. I could not do it. But I didn’t want her to have to climb back up that hill either. That made me feel even worse! And there didn’t look like there was anything around us at the top, but what would happen if we got to the bottom. Steven told me not to worry. She’d come find me and we’d figure things out from there.

I cried even harder when I saw her crest the top of the Oakland city hill. What a weak, fat, loser, untrained, asshole I was. Who the hell did I think I was doing this ride? Steven pulled up, got off her bike and sat down in the shade with me. Her new strategy is to just be quiet. I kept crying. And crying. And crying. I couldn’t stop.

In the meantime, Steven was looking around. And she had stopped a “country club.” Just a little pole barn building next to a golf course, but maybe? Just maybe? Yup. They had a bar. “Come on,” she said, and she led us over there. We parked our bikes in the yard and went inside.

I am not sure what the bartender was thinking when she saw us. Steven smiling like a champion and me the Soggy Bottom Gal, but she must have been fucking bored, because she wanted to chit chat. All I wanted to do was order a beer and then stare at it in a dark, air conditioned corner. We finally managed to get away from her, and sit on the other side of the room.

Cry baby! 

Steven called our b&b and arranged to have our host pick us up on his way home from work. He had a truck! We could just throw the bikes in the back, but what about food? The b&b was way out in the country: could we get some take out from the “country club”? Sure. We put in a massive order for cheese balls, breadsticks, hamburgers, cheese sticks. You know. The works. And Steven ordered a Diet Coke (don’t tell the Mayor). The bored gal, trying to be nice, gave her a huge fountain Diet Coke. Steven was crushed. The DC was for later?

Arranging rides and drying eyes. 

Our food arrived and then so did our ride. It takes a lot of man powr to sling loaded touring bikes into the back of a pick-em-up truck, but we managed. And, then, tears dried, we were off to our air conditioned accommodations.

Come on ladies!