For each of the past few years I have travelled to Nebraska
or Kansas City to ride a brevet with my buddy, Spencer Klaassen. At some point
on each of those rides, Spencer would start bragging about the great riding in
the Nebraska Sandhills. Although my usual thought was something along the lines
of, “it’s Nebraska, it can’t be that great”, I was intrigued when Spencer
scheduled a 1000K Sandhills brevet for Memorial Day weekend. After a few weeks of sporadic emails and text
messages, I decided to sign up and see what the Sandhills are all about.
My spring seemed really busy this year so I didn’t have time
for my normal studying of the route and planning out all of the logistics. My
first real sense that riding in the Sandhills would be a little different came
at the pre-ride cookout in Broken Bow, Nebraska. Upon arriving at the gathering,
Dan Driscoll immediately approached Spencer and asked if the distances between
controls were really as far as the cue sheet suggested. Spencer just sort of
shrugged and replied with something like “well, it’s the Sandhills. There’s not
much out there.” Eventually, I would
figure out what he meant.
Spencer managed to entice an extremely experienced collection
of randonneurs to Nebraska. Besides myself, the group included Spencer, John
Ende from North Carolina, Rod Geisert from Missouri, Dan Driscoll from Texas,
Robert Sexton from San Francisco, Mike Fox from Iowa, Ron Hillberg, from South
Dakota. Rick Dockhorn from Lincoln,
Nebraska also started and rode a big chunk of the ride before volunteering to
join the support crew. At some point
during the morning, I started pondering the number of RUSA kilometers
represented in the group. After the ride, I looked it up, and learned that the
7 finishers had accumulated over 450,000 kilometers in RUSA events!
The 53 miles to the first control passed quickly amid lots
of stories and good-natured banter. We rode on deserted highways through green,
rolling hills devoid of trees or buildings.
Cap’n Ende remarked that it looked
like we were riding through the set of the TeleTubbies TV show! That thought
would keep coming back to me throughout the ride. For most of the segment we rolled along in a
loose herd of riders taking up the whole lane.
Cars or trucks were so
infrequent that we often didn’t even bother to move into a single file line
when one would come up behind us.
After a quick stop in Stapleton, we embarked
on the 61 miles to the second control. We had hoped to stop in the tiny town of
Tryon 25 miles into this section for water and a snack. However, the town didn’t
have any open services. Fortunately, a gentleman standing in his front yard let
us into his house to fill our water bottles and use his bathroom.
The group split up on a couple of serious climbs over the
remaining 35 miles to the next control in Mullen. While eating lunch at Paul’s
Liquor and Drive-In, Spencer, Rod, John and I had an interesting conversation
with a waitress. We were a little worried about the next 74 mile segment. So
Spencer asked her if there were any services. Her response became a theme for
the ride. “Nope. Nothing up there at all. Say your Prayers and pack a water
bottle!”
The long segment provided lots more rugged scenery and quiet
roads. Spencer had arranged to have
volunteers set up a stop for food and water in the middle of the 74 mile
segment. Rick and Debe were great and seeing them gave us a big lift.
We
finished the section as darkness was falling with lightning visible off the
west. The storm hit just as we were getting ready to leave. Riding in rain is
just part of being a randonneur. Riding in a Nebraska thunderstorm is not.
Strong winds, heavy rain and lightning kept us sitting in the McDonalds for a
couple hours before the storm blew through.
When we were finally able to leave,
the 51 miles to the overnight rolled by fairly uneventfully. We arrived at the
overnight around 4:45 am.
The first overnight is a story in itself. A few weeks before
the ride, Spencer and I were talking about the difficulty he was having finding
a place to sleep for the first overnight. Out of desperation we came up with
the idea of cold calling the local bank and asking for suggestions from whoever
answered the phone. In a weird twist, the lady who answered the phone said she
would see if we could rent her parents’ house. A couple of days later it was
worked out. We had a house to rent plus they insisted on cooking us a
breakfast!
After a short couple hours of sleep, we dove into day 2.
Although I felt really good rolling out of town, things quickly went downhill
for me. Within a few miles, I was fading off the back of the group. The stomach
problems that almost derailed my Taste of Carolina 1200K last fall
returned. I was also having some serious
ITB pain in my left knee. Within about
35 miles, I was convinced that my ride was likely over. I took an unscheduled
stop in Rushville. A couple of Advils
and some food helped enough to get me to Chadron where I caught up with
Spencer, John and Rod. The next segment was only 25 miles but I was really
dragging when I pulled into the control. For the second time that day, I was
convinced my ride was over. Intending to quit, I walked up to Debe who was
providing support and told her I was done. She looked me in the eye, said “have
some sugar”, got into the RV and left. I guess I didn’t have much choice but to
ride on.
Spencer described the next segment as “we just go over this
little ridge, then we have a screaming descent out onto the prairie.” He
seriously understated the climb. It looked way more like Colorado than
Nebraska. Complete with sweeping corners and large pine trees. I stopped to
take a picture but in my exhausted state I apparently couldn’t properly operate
a camera. After descending onto the prairie, I crawled along convinced that I
was done the next time I saw the RV. Fortunately, by the time I saw it again, I
had turned east, picked up a huge tailwind and pulled to within 25 miles of the
final control of the day. By that point, I was determined to find a way to limp
into the overnight. My spirits really climbed when I arrived in Alliance and
realized that I had caught up to Spencer, Rod and John. Rod was kind enough to ride the last 60 miles
of the day with me, arriving at the overnight around 4:00am.
All of the field, except Ron, left the overnight and headed
across town for a randonneur breakfast at the local gas station, convenience
store and diner. It was the first time I can remember eating biscuits and gravy
at a gas station.
The next 35 miles was both the best and worst time of the
ride for me. The scenery was spectacular, but we were riding into a 25ish mph
headwind. Within a few miles, I was off the back again and fading fast.
However, there was no way I was quitting on the last day. My bad mood continued
when we rolled into Arthur, the control town, and discovered that the only
restaurant in town was closed because it was Memorial Day. A Coke and a snack
from Rick and Debe combined with a half hour or so sitting in the shade helped
enough to get us back on the road.
At Tryon, 40 miles later, we took a short break in the town
park to take advantage of a water pump and port-o-potties. The group rolled ahead while I prepared to
finish the ride alone. Surprisingly, when I rolled into the final control, 24
miles later, the gang was still there. For the second time on the ride,
concerned locals talked us out of leaving because a major storm was moving
through. A few minutes later, the storm hit with extremely strong winds and
heavy rains.
Within an hour or so, the storm moved past. As we left, the
magical light of sunset was shared with a beautiful rainbow.
The remaining 53 mile passed fairly uneventfully. Mike Fox
and Cap’n Ende were nice enough to back off and ride in with me. The good
natured conversation helped the miles pass quickly. Nine miles from the finish,
we turned a corner and were blessed with a strong tailwind that pushed us back
to Broken Bow.
We tried to have an impromptu celebration in the lobby. But
we made a pretty worn out looking group sitting there with our beer and pizza.
