Day 16 Windmills, Sunflowers, and Flat Roads Briggsdale - Yuma, CO 116 miles

The change in culture and topography is stunning. Indeed, Colorado has two halves, and they are starkly different. I am getting to see both at a very slow pace.

This morning I awoke to the sound of coyotes in the Pawnee National Grassland, then set about finding a phone to call back to North Carolina radio. Fortunately, the hour was not too early for a truck driver eating his bowl of cereal. All day I headed east; for just as long, the wind blew out of the north. I tried to will it to turn 90 degrees to the west, but it never happened. The August prairie sun beat down on me with intensity, and I grew more tired, and sooner, than I thought.

I wondered how different the landscape would look and smell if it was not under intensive livestock production. I passed numerous livestock feed lots enroute east towards Kansas. I wondered whether this production was one of the reasons I saw such little wildlife today, the least of any day of the trip. The Pawnee National Grassland protects a very small portion of native prairie habitat, so it is not surprising that I saw a great number of bird and mammal species on my ride through there yesterday and stopover last night. That grassland is home to the mountain plover, a species that is similar in appearance to piping plover.

I was fortunate to see several species of buteos today. Perhaps they are color variants of the same species, for the bulk of the ones I am seeing have a similar body shape and wing span. When I was zoning out during one stretch today, I suddenly was alarmed by a loud screech just above my head. Evidently I had biked too close to a nest and the hawk let me know about it from very close range. Also noteworthy today was the roadside vegetation, including abundant wild sunflowers. This provided good scenery on a ride that was otherwise hot, flat, and straight through the beginning of the American midwest.

Three months and counting...

I’ve biked across the continent before so know - to some degree – what is in store. However, there are many, many things about my upcoming trip from Oregon to Carolina that my mind is racing to wrap itself around. What will the weather be like? Will the roads have descent shoulders? Will my bike hold up? Will my body hold up? What will it feel like to participate in extreme fundraising for a non-profit? I can only hope that my mental and physical preparations pay off. Yesterday evening I went for a training ride, summiting the only hill in Carteret County, NC 30 times; it was the Atlantic Beach high-rise bridge. Each time I got the top of the bridge, I was provided stunning views of a fast moving thunderstorm that barreled its way down Bogue Sound, past Cape Lookout, and out over the mighty Atlantic Ocean.

While my mind has that tone of anxiety, I also know that a solo journey of this mileage and duration provides some of life’s rarest gift. I will see places I would never see otherwise, and many that I will never see again. I will make friends with folks who are still strangers to me. In getting rescued from a rainstorm or a helping hand to fix a broken bike, I will be constantly reminded that ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are still the most important words in the English vocabulary.

I am riding for a good cause. Yesterday I volunteered a few hours at the Outer Banks Wildlife Shelter. OWLS is getting ready for its seasonal influx of baby birds and animals that it cares for every spring in coastal Carolina. As I write this on a lovely Sunday morning, a baby brown thrush is huddled in a bush outside my back porch. Its mother is dutifully finding insects to feed its insatiable appetite.

Today is Sunday, May 3rd: Perfect temps, a strong sea breeze, and sunny skies, a good day for a ride…..