Golf grasses.

Day 42. Oberlin KS. | End: North Platte NE. | Mileage 2313

The shuffling of maps and ideas filled the room. Last minute changes to the route were discussed and a solution found. Heading north into Nebraska was not only in the direction we needed to go, but those highways held more towns than western Kansas had to offer. Being self sufficient on this trip, we did not was to run the risk of running out of water. If we knew ahead of time and talked to the community, we can pack accordingly. Maps can be deceptive, marking towns that really don’t offer much more than a pay phone.
Bill met us out front this morning with two sweet rolls and wishes of safe passage. Pouring us some coffee, we had our last laughs, snapped some photos and set off. To the watering hole we headed, stocking up on water and fix a flat. We were lucky to meet Steve whom was a cyclist as well. He was heading to Colorado with his wife when he pulled over to put air in his tires. He was itching to ride he said and was happy to help us out. Lending his air pump and contributing some funds to Bike Works, he showed us kindness on another level… all after just a few moments of talking.
The road was open and ours for the taking. Heading north on highway 83, we entered a sea of grass. The road would shimmer like glass, reflective and as blue as the sky. The border of Nebraska gave us a rest, snapping shots and happy we made it out of Kansas, the cold grip of the wicked witch. The stretches now 30+ miles long, separating towns and our precious watering holes. We made time fly with the down hills, Dirk passing me smiling and saying the heavy falls faster. I would crack a smile on the up hill and say the feather floats better as I blow by him. Again I watch the sparrows play, dart in front or me and circle about. The road was quiet and vast ahead.
We found a spot to rest for a bit, catching our breaths and resting the legs. Wellfeet, a town with a population of 76 and one shop, we had a blast. Grabbing a burger and a soda, we talked for well over an hour with some locals.
The terrain changed before us after a high hill. Like a neatly trimmed golf course, the hills just rolled on top of each other, green and lush. We made it south of North Platter, a grand lake and our camp spot was in sight.

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