D11 Genoa to Fremont Lakes
I started the Day 10 ride report the morning of Day 11. I was writing as I was preparing to go on a tour of the Genoa Indian School Museum. I was worried how it would be presented. I needn't have worried. Andy arranged a tour with Alyce, a retired teacher. She and the materials in the museum presented an unvarnished picture of the school and its effect on individuals and cultures. They run the museum as a place of healing.
There are 40 kids buried in unmarked graves. They haven't been located, but not for want of trying. The State Archeologist has using ground penetrating radar and careful digging. Once found remains will be identified if possible and sent home.
The school closed in 1934. Part of their work was establishing communication with former students. They were successful in reaching a number of people when they began in the 90s. The museum has collected oral histories and established contact with tribes. Some kids as young as 4 were forcibly removed from their families and sent to Genoa. They were forbade from speaking anything other than English. One man, Sydney Bird, told about going home and not being able to communicate. He had to relearn his first Lakota language.
The previous day I'd ridden into Genoa on the Pawnee Memorial Highway a name. I learned the county Genoa sits in is Pawnee land. A reservation was made there until they were forcibly removed to Oklahoma. The school was originally one the Pawnee had created, but was changed to the boarding school model after they were remoed. Back to the highway, the Pawnee and museum worked to get the highway designation made by the governor's office.
Because of my museum tour, I got a late start. I left at 10 for what promised to be a long, flat, straight, hot day. I wasn't wrong. The theme of the day was avoiding the highway which wasn’t always possible. It started with a pleasant ramble along the Loup Canal. I am still not sure how they generate power. The ramble was not to last. I rejoined Highway 30, but it wasn’t too long before I could duck onto a gravel farm road again on the way into Columbus. Sing the ducking I got blocked by three locomotives picking up a parked train on a siding. I used the time to explore the dried corn. (Four guys on road bikes just went by my Fremont Lakes campsite. I am getting close to the city). Columbus isn’t a suburb, but it close enough to benefit economically so I wasn’t entirely surprised to see my first Tesla of the trip.
After a lunch along Columbus’ old main street I took off into the building heat. I set out on the backroads on the 17 miles to Schuyler. I had a love-hate relationship with the stiff crosswind. It cooled me, but cut my speed. Much of the way was gravel. It is fun to ride it because you don’t feel like you have to stay smashed to the shoulder. Gravel also can mean a lot of things. In drought parched eastern Nebraska, that meant the road eventually became loose and sandy. I had to find a line that had been smashed down and ride in that. I was joyful when the pavement returned at Schuyler.
Schuyler has a big Hispanic population. I stopped at a hispanic grocery. I got refried beans and tortillas along with a pastry unknown to me for dinner. Around the corner I saw the African Store. Diversity in Nebraska is no longer Swiss or Czech.
Shortly after Schuyler a bridge was out necessitating a return to the highway. Now it was a 4 lane! I could feel the city looming. (Oh, the cyclists zoomed by again). The 4 lane wasn’t not aethetically fun, but felt safe. It had a huge shoulder and traffic always had a lane to move into to avoid buzzing me.
By now it was hot. In Rogers I attempted to rejoin a backroad, but some folks told me the road that Google and Ride With GPS said existed, did not, in fact, exist. Back to the highway. Luckily, after a couple of miles I was able to join the Old Highway 30. This took me into Nebraska’s North Bend. I looked forward to a cold drink in some AC. A bank sign read 93 degrees! Unfortunately, the town was repairing its main street and the businesses along it were closed. Instead, I drank an icy Coke and ate an ice cream sandwich at a convenience store. The staff made a heroic and successful effort to get the ice to come out of the soda machine. I was grateful.
From North Bend it was just a matter of pounding out the miles to Fremont Lakes. I arrived at 6 pm. Jumping in the lake was like a splash of cool water. I jumped into the lake in my riding shorts. Luckily, my heat addled brain remembered my wallet.
The evening was busy with showering, getting water, setting the tent up, and eating. As it got dark, tons of small, but non-biting bugs swarmed my headlamp. Lightning flashed to the north. It was time to retreat to the tent. I finished the D10 report and was asleep by 10:00 pm.
It is morning now. I am typing on my small folding keyboard at the picnic table listening to the birds. Today is a ‘short’ 40 miles into the Big City. I have a Warmshowers host for one night then an Airbnb for two. I’ll do one more ride report and an end of trip summary. I plan to ride across the Missouri and officially tag Iowa. It’ll be a good day.
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