Day 37: Council Bluffs, IA to Fremont, NE

Crossed the Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge over the Missouri River into Omaha first thing in the morning.  It’s a beautiful bridge, and so much better not having to dodge traffic as you cross.  Unfortunately, the memory card on my camera got corrupted and I lost all the pictures I took in Iowa.  Maybe it’s best to forget that leg of the ride anyhow.

Once in Omaha, the regularly scheduled lightning storm hit.  I was happy to be deluged on in exchange for the heat being knocked down a few notches.  There was one very strange moment, though.  As I topped a hill and began coasting down, I was getting soaked by a cold rain and being hit with a hot wind at the same time.  A freaky, but interesting, sensation.

Once I got loose of the city and onto the travelin’ roads happiness filled my cyclist soul.  Not only did Nebraska have shoulders, but they were wide and smooth!  They had somehow managed to figure out how to put the rumble strip right on the whit line so it didn’t get in anyone’s way.  And they were also kind enough to make their hills quite manageable.  Nebraska rules!

I made it to the Fremont Lakes Recreation Area after a solid day of sweaty riding.  My campsite was on the shore of a lake and I jumped in before setting camp.  What an awesome way to finish the day!  A few minutes later I was being hailed from the shore.  I looked up and saw a cyclist with a loaded touring bike.  Holy unexpected encounters, Batman!

Tyson introduced himself and we exchanged the requisite information about where we were coming from and going to.  He was a seasoned touring rider, and had been overseas biking through Turkey and Southeast Asia.  He was in the process of riding through one of the “stans” (Tajikistan, maybe?), when he had to come back to keep his passport active.  Instead of flying home to Seattle, he opted to fly to New York and ride home from there.  Bad ass!

We set up camp, he took a dip, and we chatted some more.  We got into the inevitable gear talk, and I made the mistake of bragging about how I hadn’t had a single flat tire yet.  When the conversation turned to tire widths, we went over to my bike to check out what size mine were (I wasn’t entirely sure), and guess what we found: I had a flat rear tire!  On closer inspection, it turns out that after 2,000 miles my tires were worn through.  I managed to find the little chunk of glass that had burrowed into the tread, and had the tire inflated and remounted in no time.  I then repaired the punctured tube with a quick-stick patch, and was back in business.  Or so I thought.

What I Learned: Don’t remove the tire from the rim until after you figure out where the tube is punctured.  This way you can quickly determine about where the intruding object is without having to search the entire tire.

Distance Today: 45 miles
Total Distance: 1,771 miles