Prairie Spirit

Mike and I took advantage of a bright and mild November day and headed south with our bikes to the Prairie Spirit Trail.
We pulled into Ottawa, Ks., right about 9 a.m. and, after Mike marked his territory near the old train depot (in his defense, the place wasn't open), headed through and then out of town on a planned 30-mile ride.

Mike has ridden this trail two or three other times, but this was my first. It's amazing that the state of Kansas has constructed such a long (51 miles) and well maintained trail. The scenery is mostly vast stretches of farmland, but the trail itself is on an old wooded railroad bed. It's flat, and straight. You don't coast down any hills or pump up any, either. There were very few people out until we were on our way back, and even then the numbers were sparse.
Since neither of us has ridden much lately, we were getting a little saddle sore after about 20 miles. We were glad to dismount for good about 12:30.

The hardest part of the whole morning was finding some place to eat lunch afterward. Driving slowly through downtown Ottawa we spotted a local pizza shop and decided to go in for a sandwich. We weren't 5 feet inside the place when Mike sensed it wasn't going to work out. I talked him into staying, and we sat down in a booth.

I was going to take more pictures, but what you see in the background is pretty much all there is to see on the part of the trail we rode.

The waitress came over and announced they had a pizza and salad buffet, or we could order off the menu. Mike didn't want pizza and went for one of the four sandwich selections. "They can be on wheat or white bread," the waitress said, but when Mike wanted his on wheat, she announced they had only white on hand that day.
Scratch the sandwich. 
Still, we did not leave. Mike went with the salad bar, and I ordered the pizza and salad buffet. When we got to the salad bar, there was about a half pint of lettuce in a gigantic bowl, a few croutons, and a dozen or so small crocks of dressing. On the next table, the pizza looked like Friday's leftovers.
Scratch the pizza place. The waitress granted me a styrofoam to-go cup for my $1.95 20-oz. soda (so much for small-town prices), and just as I was about to turn and leave, and rather large gentleman in business attire approached, looked at my tights, bike shorts and bright yellow bike shirt and asked "You been ridin'?" Nice guy. And sharp, too.
Three miles and a half dozen Mexican restaurants later, we were at McDonalds on the far south side of town. Mike spent $2.82 for lunch and was happy. I had chicken fingers, I believe (doesn't everything taste the same at McDonalds?), and we were finally on our way back home.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! -- Rob