The Heebie-Jeebies

Welcome to Kansas!

DAY 27
Golden City, MO to K-39 Hwy, KS

Today should be about entering Kansas, our fifth state, or about the 119 miles we traveled. But it's not, it's about a nightmare of a town called Benedict, Kansas. 

We had traveled 67 miles by noon and were eating lunch in the small town of Walnut, Kansas. The morning had been ideal, cool and sunny with no horrible Kansas headwinds we'd heard so much about. With only 25 miles remaining in our planned itinerary, the stage was set for a productive day. Becky likes to badger me about nothing ever being good enough. The miles we went were never enough or fast enough... etc. Most of the time she does this mockingly for fun, despite the truth in her accusations. The seed had already started to grow in my head that maybe because of the ideal conditions today, we should try to push on a few extra miles. I  just needed to somehow get Becky to see and then agree with the logic behind continuing on. At first she looked like she wanted to cry. I tried comforting her by telling her we didn't have to continue, it was just an idea. An idea she didn't completely disagree with because she picked up the phone to check the weather forecast. Shocker, a rain storm was moving in this evening. High winds the next few days. A check of the Adventure Cycling Map shows a cyclist only camping in the small town of Benedict, 17.5 miles past our original goal. This would run the total mileage for the day to a staggering 109 miles, but more importantly, place us comfortably inside a church for the stormy evening.

The town of Benedict is set back off the highway, hidden in trees and time. Having missed the turn into the town, Becky phones "Pastor Joe". He tells us to retrace our steps across the river and to continue over the railroad tracks. As we enter the eerily quiet town, a yellow school bus speeds by. It's a dirty older bus, and not a full size bus, but a short half length one. The bus passes again, only this time heading in the same direction as us. It idles and a hand rigidly slips out the window with a slow wave, beckoning us forward. A knot tightens in my stomach and an alarm goes off in my head. I turn to Becky giving her a quizzical, concerned look. We turn a corner and again the malevolent short bus waits as the hand motions us on.

Any new pose, even if just for a second, makes your bum feel great

"Come in, come in. First things first, choose an ice cream." Pastor Joe opens an ice chest in the corner of the raggedy, dusty town store. It's more or less, an old house which has been converted into a store. Mostly convenience store fare, with snacks, drinks and other odds and ends. Every item is individually priced with a black sharpie. He also offers us bottled water as he sits at a shoddy round table next to the register. Becky and I join him at the table as we uncomfortably take in our surroundings. Pastor Joe looks like he walked out of the Deliverance movie set. He's wearing a soiled olive green outfit consisting of trousers and a long sleeve button up. A work belt without any tools, hangs limp around his waist and suspenders hold the entire ensemble together. A North Carolina Tar Heels baseball cap sits on his head faded and dirty. He uses it to swat a beetle as it scampers across the floor. His sun weathered skin appears wrinkled and firm. The spaces of missing teeth are a few teeth away from outnumbering the present teeth in his mouth. Patchy white facial hair grows in clumps, finishing in a greasy unintentional fu manchu.

Tired and nauseous from our surroundings, we sit at the table struggling to come up with and properly word our responses to Pastor Joes rambling. These ramblings include references to the Ku Klux Klan, amputation, homeless shelters, butchering elk, being wanted in 48 states and 5 countries, being a Jew, President Obama, war, the one true God... And the whole west coast is going to burn.

This man is on the Adventure Cycling maps, other people have stayed here and lived... right? We've gone 109 miles, I'm exhausted, Becky's foot is hurting her, and there's a storm coming in. My mind races. Justifications and excuses to stay or leave. A thousand thoughts go through my head. The one I keep coming back to is, while hiking the PCT, someone had given me advice about hitch hiking. This simple advice was, if for any reason, any reason at all you don't feel comfortable with someone, don't get in the car. Simple, but potentially life saving advice. Well, we were already in the car. But that didn't mean we had to stay seated.

It was getting late, could we afford to leave? Where would we go? I needed to see the church. Maybe it's nice, maybe there's more people there... Sane people. Again wishful thinking and denial lead us further down the rabbit hole.

The church proves to be confirmation as to our need to immediately remove ourselves from the situation. The outside appeared to be in desperate need of renovation. Cracked paint, broken window frames, and an overall sense of neglect. From the inside, how this building is not condemned is beyond me. Countless ceiling tiles threaten to fall at any moment. The uneven wooden floor boards crack under our weight. A stagnant heat radiates throughout the musty room. Pastor Joe rambles on about God knows what for another 20 minutes before going outside to cut sheet metal roof pieces. Before he leaves he points out how most people sleep right up on the alter, a small raised platform with a dull green felt carpet.

Benedict's church

Pastor Joe and his bus

With the roar of a saw ripping through metal on the other side the wall, Becky and I are finally alone. Wide eyed and fearful we anxiously plan our escape. I tell her I'm simply going to go outside and tell him we don't feel comfortable staying here. Becky won't allow it. Our next best plan is to lie and tell him our friends just called and are camping 14 miles up the road at the state park. This seem to be the most sensible solution. I hand him a ten dollar bill and thank him for the ice cream and water. He allows us to leave but not before taking our photo and giving us a DVD of his entitled, "Out of the Mouths of Two or Three! America will burn!"

We haven't had the courage to watch them yet

We could not get out of that sinister town quick enough. It was 7:30 at night, we'd already pedaled 109 miles. We were dog tired and didn't have a clue as to where we were going or would sleep tonight, but we were making distance from this satanic asshole. And that was the important thing. Hopped up on adrenaline and fear I could have ridden another 100 miles. Becky was another story. Physically and emotionally drained, she struggles to keep up. Luckily, kind strangers by the name of Joan and Bob allow us to sleep on their lawn for the evening. They even drive us into town for a Sonic burger and shake. Thank you Joan and Bob, meeting the two of you meant more than you know!

Looking crazed, but happy to be alive!

The night didn't end so bad :)

Stats:
Miles: 119.06
Average speed: 12.8 mph
Max speed: 27.1 mph
Odometer: 1741 miles