Day Three: October 8, 2009 - Day of Deluge

I awoke to the sound of rain drops heavily plunking upon on my canopy. I spent a few minutes awkwardly rolling about in my hammock as I gathered together the water sensitive items that I'd brought in for the night. I slipped into my shoes and climbed out of the hammock. The disappointment of a rainy morning intruded on my ability to make cohesive decisions and I wasted lots of time opening, closing and re-opening my different bags as I tried to pack up my soggy camp. I still wasn't familiar enough with my packing arrangement to find an item without much fruitless searching. Much of my gear got needlessly wet in the confusion.

It was around nine when I finally got under way. I headed out to the highway and headed north to a greasy spoon restaurant I'd seen on the edge of town the night before. The rain fell in scattered, heavy drops as I pulled up to Chancy's Diner. There was a crowd of ten men seated in a loose group at various tables at the far end of the diner. They all seemed to be older semi-retired men of farmer stock. Many of them were wearing overalls and trucker hats but without the usual irony and they casually sipped coffee with easy conversation. I must have been quite a site, soaking wet in a rain jacket and pants with my bike helmet in hand.

The waitress was friendly and didn't seem to mind my disheveled appearance. I ordered a large breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, wheat toast and biscuits with gravy. As I waited for my food I absorbed my surroundings and checked my maps for the day's route. Through the windows I saw that the rain had stopped and traces of sunlight were breaking through the clouds. I was relaxed by the time my food arrived and I looked forward to a nice day as the sun made more headway against the earlier gloom.

After the filling breakfast I went outside and took off my rain gear as it was now quite sunny. I got on the bike at ten o'clock and mentally said goodbye to Moran thinking happily that I'd waited out the rain. About a mile outside of town an on-coming minivan pulled into the southbound lane and slowed to a stop. At the wheel was, Lloyd, my host from the night before. He quickly asked how my night passed and I assured him all was well despite the storm. He smiled, gave me his business card and wished me well, driving off behind me towards his town.

It wasn't long after that, three miles perhaps, that the rain started again. It wasn't heavy so I didn't bother with my rain gear, hoping it would pass quickly. It didn't. So within five miles I was stopping again and struggling into my rain gear on the side of the road. The clouds excepted my challenge and released a steady pelting with unending clouds in all directions. My feet were shortly saturated, my "water-proof" shoe coverings falling far short of their stated purpose. The rest of my rain gear worked very well and my legs and torso stayed reasonably dry for most of the day. The bright-yellow rain covers on my bags also worked remarkably well. Everything that hadn't gotten wet while I was packing in the morning stayed perfectly dry.

The farmland around took on a new, soggy appearance as the day and rain progressed. Low lying areas in fields had already filled with water and some fields had small streams flowing through the crops. The most dramatic effect of the rain was on the streams that passed under the highway. Normally calm brooks had swollen well over their banks and the water rushed quickly under the bridges. I felt compelled to stop over each one to observe the natural power of a simple creek. Some seemed determined to wash away the surrounding land and I searched my mind for survival strategies should I chance to fall in. Then I'd step cautiously away from the bridge railing and ride away. The rain continued.

The storm's severity progressed with the passing mid-day hours. By one thirty I was soaked through and making terrible time in the a drenching down-pour. Passing tractor-trailers would send six foot waves of grimy road water to drown my already beaten mood. I pedaled on in alternating moods of extreme despair and self-mocking hilarity.

The rain was reaching new heights when I saw some gazebos just off the road at the intersection of U.S.-59 and Kansas-146. I struggled up a muddy hill to take some brief shelter. Oddly, the gazebos were on the edge of a well maintained golf course, located conspicuously amongst the farm fields. I was getting anxious with the seemingly un-ending storm. I hadn't seen a weather report in days and had no idea how long or hard it would rain. This lack of information gnawed at my outlook and I reached new lows when I checked my map and saw how few miles I'd covered. I ate a brief snack and watched the rain fall over the vast fields, feeling very small and alone.

I set a small goal of finding a library in Erie, Kansas, four miles farther on and headed back into the deluge. It wasn't long before I reached the edge of the town. I stopped by a gas station to ask directions to the library. An attendant with a mop was losing a futile battle with the dirty water tracked in by travelers. I asked for and received my needed information and turned to leave, feeling guilty when I noticed the large puddle that I left for the man with the mop.

I made the short ride to the library. Throughout the trip it was nice to know that I could count on most communities to have a public library with internet access. Libraries are also easy to find in small towns, usually being located on a main road with signs pointing the way. I spoke briefly with the librarian at the front counter, explaining my situation and needs. She told me to help myself to a computer and said I could stay out of the rain as long as I liked. I searched for a weather report and found that the rain would likely continue through-out my path until the middle of the following day. I decided that the continuing rain would make it impossible to camp for the evening and began searching coming towns for hotels. The next town with reasonable hotel options was Parsons, Kansas, fifteen miles down the road. I thanked the librarian and left.

The rain had let up slightly but not enough to lift my spirits. I rode back to the highway and steeled myself for the day's last effort. In good weather I can cover fifteen miles in about an hour. The conditions as they were and the loaded bike slowed that pace to a crawl. For two hours I pushed on, promising myself another minute in a hot shower for every big-rig wake I crossed.

I finally reached the outskirts of Parsons around four-thirty. I followed the highway into the center of town, keeping an eye out for hotel signs. Parsons had a well-maintained historic downtown with a wide main street flanked by old buildings with large glass store fronts. A few blocks farther on I saw a sign for the chamber of commerce and decided to see if they could offer advice on hotels. The two ladies inside were very helpful. They gave me a map of the town, a booklet with all the hotels listed and even offered their own opinions of the value of the various establishments. Their warm welcome and the thoughts of the shower to come made it easier to head back into the rain for what I thought would be a brief trip to the hotel. I had no idea that the next three hours would bring me to a state of near panic and desperate hopelessness.