R17 21 RideOut Day 3: Stormy Lake

Whoops! There's a mistake!

Sorry beavers--there's a mistake on this map. We essentially went straight north out of Nemaha and took that yellow road 7 into Storm Lake. We skipped 71 because we thought it would be busy and scary, and when we crossed it, we realized we were right. 

The ride out of Nemaha was okay. Lots of empty farmland stretching out into the distance and lots of negotiations to build a ship that would carry men into the Arctic. (The trip was funded by a newspaper magnet). 

Finally, after a hill that we could see for a long time, and then a nice downhill, we turned onto County Road 7 and shit got real. It wasn't that busy, but it was busier. And the road sucked. Potholes, rumble strips, the works. And there were hills. Nothing big, but just big enough to be demoralizing. F.M.D.

I really thought about chucking my bike into the ditch and laying down in the road for an F150 to hit me. Ugh. 

But I didn't. And soon we crossed 71 (and looked both ways) and made it into the outskirts of Storm Lake.

They are nice to cyclists here.

They are supportive of cyclists, but some of the roads around town were still pretty crappy, but the three of us rode together until we got to the bike trail that winds all the way through Storm Lake. 

Looks nice from here. 

We got on that, then we rode to the hotel, then we backtracked, then we parked the bikes in the sun, then we went inside and got a table. And then we saw the RM. Apparently, we were on the same track as them.

Where are all the boats?

We got a nice table in the restaurant and ordered beers and food, though no one was super hungry because it was so hot and sticky and gross out. 

And now we internet 

For some reason, the waitress refused to bring us water. We kept asking and asking for it and she just wouldn't do it. Beer, yes. Food, yes, but all we wanted and needed was water and she kept "forgetting it." 

This was the only ration of water we received 

Which was weird because she and her husband owned the bike shop across the street and she told us all about the cool ride that she and he had put on as a ragby shake out ride, with food and beer and t-shirts, etc. But could we get a water? Nope. 

Steven's lunch--won't be burping that up all day or anything

After lunch, we used the nice bathrooms and then went to the bike shop. I can't remember what we needed, but I bought a new set of gloves and some more chamois creme--you can never have enough! The owner (what is his name?) wasn't there, which was disappointing. We were hoping for some route recon. 

Begrudgingly, we headed out to the front porch where we proceeded to drop our bikes and fumble around getting ready to leave. 

Then, the owner did show up! He had been running errands and had just gotten back. We ran our route idea past him--essentially the same C-Banger that I took on the first ride out. "Well," he said, "normally, that is the route I would tell you to take, but they just put in the shoulder on Highway 7. It is wide and safe and mostly flat. You can take that into Alta and Aurelia. It's a great ride." 

Really....we said. Really? 

"Yes, really." So he gave us directions out of town and we fumbled and bumbled through the streets of Storm Lake until we arrived at the turn onto Highway 7. And he was right! There was a good deal of traffic, but the shoulder was great. Wide and protected by rumble street. 

And then, we were off! Westward with a bit of a tailwind. Steven and the Mayor faded off into the distance and I rode along, trying to focus on my stories and the unfolding landscape around me. 

Baby horses! 

But all the baby horses in the world couldn't pull me out of my funk.  I think my brake is rubbing. This sucks. I think the wind shifted. All the toxic thoughts came to the surface as I dragged my hot, tired, grumpy ass into Alta, pulled off the highway and went into the bar.