We started out in the morning well enough, still with sun but with significantly cooler temperatures. This is likely because of the huge storm that had moved speedily through about 8:30 pm the night before.
However, with the storm the winds had changed. We sensed this already in the morning, going north a ways, then it was hard again going west. Sure enough, looking at the grass at the roadside: out of the northwest. I have been anticipating for sometime that, eventually, we would hit this wind. From Houston all the way up through Kansas, the predominant wind was up from the south. It didn't always help us (though in Kansas it gave us a good push) and didn't often hurt us (with the exception of a few stretches in Oklahoma) but now we were fighting it. We made it to Geneva, and my ears were aching. I couldn't stand the wind cutting through them anymore. It had been about 20 miles going west, with the wind whistling persistently through my ears. The land was mostly flat, with corn fields on either side, but windbreaks were few and far in between. It was a constant push against the wind.
After lunch, the winds had strengthened. They were nearly 20mph most of the afternoon, and straight out of the northwest. Meaning we were headed straight into them. Passed a NuStar pipeline terminal just outside Geneva.
The 50 some miles that afternoon were some of the most challenging we've faced. The wind was so strong we had to pedal constantly. Pedal. Pedal. Pedal. Otherwise, you would not move. Even on downhills, we had to pedal hard to move forward. Oddly enough, we both remained in fairly high spirits on the way to York.
In York we stopped to eat some icecream, both of us a little shaken from the wind but realizing there was nothing to be done for it and thus remaining in a decent mood. I can't even begin to describe how hard it was to endlessly push against the wind. My legs could feel it -- comparable to going uphill all day without a single downhill. Even though, ironically, the land was predominantly flat with only some hills. Going south, we would have absolutely flown. The best I can describe it, perhaps, is the way an ant must feel when blown across a table.
From York to Stromsburg we had about 18 miles. I held up as long as I could, pushing and pushing into the wind. I knew I needed to just walk for awhile, to calm down, but I kept trying to chase after Laurel, who herself was trying her best to just put her head down and make it through.
The last 7 miles were flatter still, but with the wind it made no difference. With a few miles left, I was so sick of being on a bike I could hardly stand it. I actually did begin to sob. Laurel was a distant spec. All I wanted was to walk for awhile, and I should have simply done so earlier.
Eventually, Laurel came back for me! I was surprised! And I felt bad, knowing that she had as a result had to backtrack. As it turned out, we were barely a few minutes from the campground. Laurel had made it there, and then realized I was gone. I gradually recovered and calmed and felt such relief (and foolishness).
It turns out, we had gone 87 miles straight into 20mph winds. Knowing this, I understood why I had felt so exhausted. The mileage is the farthest we've done, and we did it in very adverse conditions. I felt a glimmer of accomplishment amidst my despair.
We camped at the Buckley Park campground (free for the first 7 nights!) just on the edge of Stromsburg and near the pool. It's much more of a park than a campground, with a grassy area and some picnic areas a small bike trail, and a pool down the way. The campground is primarily the picnic area. But the grass was soft.
The shower is at the pool, and so we showered, conversed a bit with the group of elderly campers in RVs (all of them very funny and kind), then walked the short ways into town to get some grilled cheeses and French fries.
I was more than ready for bed by 8:30, even though the sun was not yet set. As we move north, it sets later. That night was our first cooler night, and it was refreshingly pleasant to sleep partly within my sleeping bag.
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