The Hacienda Inn had an early check out time of 10 am. I, like usual, milked this to its full advantage before starting the day. I left the darkness of the room to beautiful blue skies, no sign whatsoever of the apocalyptic storm that occurred last evening. I checked out, walked through the rest of town and began my run through the famed Sand Hills.
The run itself was pretty uneventful as I rose and descended the wind swept hills that made some of the best grazing country in the world. The Ogallala Aquifer, one of the largest in the entire world, brings life to the area. It has been interesting to see towns, some pretty large like Chadron, sprout up without any rivers or streams to draw from. Legend has it that in some places the aquifer is so shallow beneath ground that you can lay down and hear the waters flowing. Scrapers for the highway construction would hit water after only taking off the top one or two feet.
A family of Native Americans from South Dakota who gave me a bottle of orange juice and offered me a ride to Merriman was the only source of human interaction I had on the run. I wasn't expecting much since I had been told Merriman was only a town with a few ranch houses and a cafe that was never open. I arrived to find a large grain elevator and a posted population of 118, a pretty big city by my recent standards.
I stopped in for a late lunch at the Sand Bar and was greeted by a family from further down the road in Cherry County who stopped in on their way home from Deadwood, South Dakota. They informed me that Cherry County was the largest by area in the state of Nebraska, had only had 5,800 people, but also had over 50,000 head of cattle. Never have I heard so many jokes and quips on rapid fire than in that bar. They joked that's the only way to stay entertained around these parts.
The whole time they were peeling tabs on lottery tickets that cost 50 cents a piece. The first ticket they gave me to peel for them to tap into my beginner's luck yielded a buck-an insignificant amount compared to the $125 won down the table. To celebrate the winnings, a round of drinks was bought for the entire bar-a pretty big number considering liquor sales are illegal in South Dakota (only four miles away) on Sundays. My previous sandwich and cokes ended up being paid for from the winnings by the friendly Nebraskans.
I told the bartender my plans to continue up the road a mile to Cottonwood Lake. He told me the city park in town would be a better option because of its hot shower and flushing toilet. All of the bicyclists who passed through camped there and he reckoned I'd be okay to spend the night.
I arrived to the park located in the middle of town on Dry Creek-one of the biggest flowing bodies of water I've seen in the state. I showered in the bathroom with no lock and camped out under the picnic shelter, preparing my typical camping dinner of tortellini with hot sauce. It has been a week since Lost Springs, the last time I slept in the great outdoors.
5-Star camping experience
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