I discovered why the SPOT tracker hiccuped yesterday; when I turned it on this morning--nothing! On closer examination (I have it externally powered via a kludge) I found the power cable frayed through. I effected a field repair that should get me through the rest of the trip, and will clean it up when I get home.

West out of McCook on US34 (seems I've been on 34 a long time), buffeted by nasty winds out of the northwest, glad it's not raining and/or cold. Refueled at its intersection with SR25, then followed that south into Kansas, reveling in the (mostly) tailwind.

Stopped at a little city park in Atwood for a break, then braved the crosswinds west on US36. It's hard to maintain a constant speed with the relentless winds, and the buffeting that occurs every time some natural feature interrupts it. Nor is it doing my mileage any good; I stop for fuel at a crossroads called "Anton," where the pump has the "dollars" digit written in Magic Marker, and the attendant uses a calculator to figure out what to charge my credit card. (I'm not exactly sure how much 91 octane I put in.)

About 40 miles east of Denver I see what looks to be a road paralleling the highway, but don't see a corresponding indicator on the GPS, then notice that there are curves and corner barriers--it's a racetrack, out in the middle of nowhere! "High Plains Raceway," as it happens, finished in 2009. I didn't see any viewing stands, so I presume it's a racetrack for folks that want to race, although spectators may be in future plans.

Then onto I-70, much as I hate to. Traffic through Denver isn't horrible, though, and the scenery improves on the other side, climbing into the Rockies proper. I'm getting pretty good mileage on that Anton gas, and it looks like I might make it all the way to Edwards, but decide not to push it. Three exits for Vail, the east one doesn't look promising, so I get off in the middle, even though the signs just say "Food and Lodging." I don't see anything that looks commercial, I guess that would be too crass for the folks that can afford to live here. Eventually I get to the west exit, where there are a plethora of gas stations, and confusing roundabouts, making the return to I-70 more of an ordeal than it should be. Fortunately, nobody hits me.

Following Sybil Roach's directions, I exit in Edwards and circle a couple more roundabouts (they come in pairs, here) before getting onto the road that leads to their home. The guard at the entrance knows the Roachs and tends to wave motorcycles through; I follow the GPS to their front door where I'm greeted by Sybil. Tom and their other two house guests are out terrorizing the mountain roads after guiding the Lynches onto their further travels.

Eventually they find their way back to the house, where we enjoy a grilled salmon feast, topped by "Coupe Denmarks" in honor of John Hermann. I may stay here.

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