Day 40, Friday, May 30


Stuart, Nebraska to Woodlake, Nebraska

With my wheel repaired we were ready to make some progress again. The weather forecast was not favorable. We would be facing westerly winds up to 19 mph as we rode due west.

We stopped at the convenience store in Stuart for breakfast, since that was the only option. The only knock against Casey's is that they have no tables. But this store did, so we enjoyed our breakfast sandwiches and pastries there while a handful of regulars watched us suspiciously.

We rode it out town, once again on US 20. The soft surface of the Cowboy Trail saps your energy and your speed, so we avoided it.

We had not showered in a few days so we stopped in Bassett, about 21 miles into the day, at the Rock County Fairgrounds. Camping is allowed there and they have a shower. It was about what you would expect from a public shower at a fairground, but it it felt good to wash a few days of road grime away. John dropped some money in a donation box to pay for the hot water.

Ten miles further we made another stop in Long Pine for coffee. There we returned to the Cowboy Trail. We wanted to see the second longest and highest bridge on the trail, over Long Pine Creek.

We rode the trail about seven miles to Ainsworth, which was our first opportunity to get back on the road. We took it.

The day was getting warm, and riding into the wind was exhausting. When we saw a picnic table in a pavilion at Johnstown we took a break. The town looks like a movie set with its old West architecture, wooden sidewalks and hitching posts.



I really wanted to go to the L-Bow Saloon, but we still had a few miles to ride. The name is etched into the stucco above the covered sidewalk, so it has been a saloon for a long time.


Two or three miles from Woodlake, our final destination for the day, we had our first encounter with an angry motorist. US 20 has a wide shoulder, and we keep to it. The only time we might impede a motorist for a few seconds is when they are turning onto a road as we are passing it.

Two trucks with empty cattle trailers passed us and turned right onto a farm road ahead of us. A third should have waited for us to pass the road, but he sped up and made the turn directly in front of us, forcing us to brake. He was carrying more speed than he should have, and he overshot the road a little, running off the side of the road as he turned. He stopped and yelled at us something like "Get off the road onto the damn trail where you're supposed to be!"

I thought about stopping and pointing out that in every state bicyclists have the right to use public roads. Furthermore, the few seconds he saved by endangering us were completely wasted when he stopped to yell erroneous statements about road usage. But angry rednecks are unpredictable creatures so we ignored him and rolled on. 

A few miles later we ended the day in Woodlake. I had expected it to be a unremarkable day of highway riding on long straightaways with a steadily rising grade. It was mostly that, I suppose, but like any day, it still had its moments.

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