Not Oregon: Nebraska

While Oregon is home to some notably excellent bike riding, there are approximately 49 other states where one can pedal a bicycle.  Nebraska is one of them.

My friend Scott and I used to joke about how as soon as one brought a bike with them on vacation, it ceased to be a true vacation; the stress of finding new routes to ride and the guilt when you never actually go for that ride can really put a damper on relaxation.  We both rode a lot back then, and I think everyone can relate to the “fear” of falling out of shape after a week or more off the bike.  I ride my bike a lot less now, so vacation has an opportunity to take on a whole new dimension.  A few weeks ago, I took a vacation from this shop and these roads to visit a different bike shop and leave tire tracks on foreign trails.

I arrived at the Omaha airport Friday evening, where I met up with Carl, who took us straight back to Lincoln.  We headed right to the Monkey Wrench where I assembled my bike (a borrowed Surly Wednesday - thanks Brendan!) and assess the TSA-inflicted damage (a bent derailleur hanger) before our departure the next day.  After an afternoon of exploring the state capitol and the ins and outs of MWC, it was time to make the four-hour drive to the Nebraska National Forest.  We arrived in Halsey a little after 10 PM, parked the car, and pedaled a few miles in the dark before making camp.

We awoke early Sunday morning (3/13, daylight savings time begins), ready to see the rest of what the forest had to offer.  We headed west, towards a campsite with water pumps and hoping to catch the NW winds towards our day’s destination at the old lookout tower.  The fat bike experience is a unique one for anyone used to pedaling “regular” bikes.  After slogging uphill at 2-3 miles per hour, the 15 mph descents feel like breakneck speeds!  Rallying down the soft ATV and service trails was one of the better times I’ve had on a bike in recent memory.

The terrain was pretty surreal; I kept waiting for the ocean to appear over the horizon, only to remember that we were in the middle of the plains, with nothing but sand hills farther than the eye could see. 

We traversed hill and dale, stopping often to take photos and occasionally to check the map.  The heat was taking its toll, so I was relieved to hear that we’d found the entrance to the old lookout site.  We stashed our stuff in the shade under some cedars and made coffee, shot slingshots, and took full advantage of the slow life.  After our restlessness got the better of us, we hiked around looking for the right ground to sleep on that night, as well as where we might best catch the sunset.  And what a sunset it was.