Everything started well this morning, even with a rather stiff wind coming out of the south. I made the last-minute call to put on my windbreaker and pull up the hood under my helmet; it turned out to be the second-best decision of the day.
For the first 8-10 miles, the south wind was bearable: occasionally, I could almost feel it behind my left shoulder, giving me a little nudge forward. It didn’t last: we were soon confronted by a strong, gusting wind coming at us from the SSW. The fact that it wasn’t coming straight out of the west didn’t matter; it was crushing us. It took me and Jon a little over two hours to ride the 20 miles to McLean; I was actually surprised to learn that we had been riding that fast. There weren’t many downhills—we continued yesterday’s upward trajectory—but both Jon and I were actually pedaling on the descents. I spent most of the time thinking what I was fairly certain Jon was thinking, too: how do we extricate ourselves from this no-win situation?
When we pulled into the service station/convenience store in McLean, it was our first chance to discuss. (Even if we were able to ride side-by-side, we couldn’t hear what the other person was saying. That’s how bad the wind was.) In yet another example of the two of us being on the exact same page, it was unanimous: we can’t do this.
Separately, we had been looking ahead roughly 12 miles, to an interstate rest area just past the town of Alanreed. We would be getting onto the interstate about a mile before the rest area. (This stretch of highway had no service or feeder roads: Route 66 was I-40. It would be my first-ever experience of riding my bike on an interstate.) We figured that the rest area would be the best place to find a westbound car that could take Jon to the Amarillo airport, where he would grab his van and drive back to pick up me and the bikes.
We slogged those 12 miles to the rest area, and that last mile was about as difficult a ride as I have ever made. We found a relatively wind-shielded pavilion, and set about the task of finding transport. We approached (and were politely declined by) 3-4 motorists, and then…. Enter Sandeep.
Jon and I had noticed Sandeep a few minutes earlier when we saw him spread out a yoga mat and do some stretching in a nearby pavilion. Sandeep’s a young, healthy guy; emigrated to Canada from India; drives a long-haul semi for a Canadian trucking company. We know these things because he came over and asked us if we were actually attempting to bike in this wind. When we shared our story, he gladly volunteered to take Jon to Amarillo in his rig.
Two hours later, Jon returned to the rest area with his van. We loaded the bikes and headed east, back into Oklahoma. We’re back in Elk City tonight, in the same hotel (and I’m in the same room) where we stayed 48 hours ago. Stage 3 is over.
I want a few days to let it all sink in, but for now I will say unequivocally that the decision to forgo the final 60 miles under these conditions feels like a big win. We did the right thing (especially after Jon discovered on the drive back from Amarillo that Groom—our intended destination for tonight—had a motel, but there were no restaurants open on a Monday night).
Could we have finished the ride we planned? I’m 100% sure we could have. But we did something smarter instead.
Rideworthy 