Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
settles in the air changes the light, especially at dusk, when everything takes on a golden
glow.
It's a landscape unlike anything I've ever seen, essentially treeless, a game board of
wheat fields in vast quadrangles of burnt browns and beiges and road names with words
like
gulch
and
dead man
in them. With undulating hills, some of them quite steep, that
seem to go on forever like the rollers in the middle of the ocean, few outposts of civiliz-
ation, and temperatures that click up suddenly at noon from tolerable to scalding, it is a
challenge for a cyclist, to say the least.
Tom and I left Pomeroy late in the morning—I slept a couple of extra hours—and im-
mediately climbed a fierce hill in heat that made the air wiggle. A photographer from the
Times
was following us, and he captured us just as we crested the hill and a curious dog
wandered out into the road for a good sniff.
Photo by Stuart Isett
