DAY THREE

On that ill-fated trip last year, my friend and I had awoken to the sound of raindrops on our tent. It rained and rained and…oh, well. As I said, another story.

I listened for the sounds. No drops. Wait…DROPS! They just started. Arrgh! What rotten luck. It’s about 8:00 am. It’s a solid gray sky. I’m camped right next to a concrete mushroom shelter and hurry to move all my gear under the shelter. I moved the bike into the shelter the night before in case of rain. I struck the tent and tossed it on the pile.

But the rain was light and sporadic, for awhile. I packed everything and put it on the bike just about the time it started to rain for real. After a quick stop at the facilities, I headed into the rain with my rainsuit on over my riding coat and clothes. Behind my big windshield and fairing, I’m dry and warm and lovin’ it. This is adventure living.

I rode back south to 36 and then headed east for Belleville, half an hour away, for breakfast. I rode out of the rain just before Belleville and didn’t really feel that hungry so I pushed on. It was beginning to get hilly. I stopped at Marysville for a doughnut and continued east. Northeast Kansas is lovely. Hills and trees and older farms. What a delightful ride.

Mid-morning I arrived at Troy. This was my northeast turn. The landscape was beautiful with hills and trees which were in the midst of turning fall colors. I snapped my corner picture and headed south on highway 7.

Highway 7 took me through Atchison, the home of Amelia Earhart, and on to Leavenworth. Coming into town from the north, I got a great view of the Fort and the prison. It’s old buildings look more like a college than a prison, but I guess the “residents” are learning something during their stay there as well.

I snacked on KFC for lunch in South Leavenworth and then on down past Kansas City, through Olathe and east on 68 to Louisburg, three miles from the Missouri border.

As I headed south again on 69, clouds were beginning to form off to the west, heading my way. This was my third and last night out so I though I would treat myself and find a sleep cheap for the night. I arrive at Ft. Scott about supper time. I rode by the Fort, a great sight to visit. Several years ago I had visited here and filmed the sight extensively. I then recreated the fort on my computer in 3D animation as part of a master’s degree class for K-State.

I found a motel and ate some of the food I was carrying, in my duffle, for supper. I spent a pleasant night in the motel watching TV and listening to the occasional raindrop, thankful I didn’t have to pack up a wet tent in the morning. I’d ridden 328 miles today.

I was glad, too, there were no coyotes or hoot owls to listen to. Tonight it was the Union Pacific, about 75 yards away from my door. Oh, well. It drowned out the sound of soldier’s carbine rifle shots and Indian war cries. Or maybe I was dreaming.