DAY 8 July 2, 2010 "RATTLESNAKE KATE" ~ GREELY, CO

GREELEY - One of the gems of Greeley, Colorado is the Greeley Museum. Located off 8th Street, the museum features a tremendous collection of history, including a fragment of a noose from 1888 used in the city's only lynching, a three-foot-tall silver trophy from 1912 awarded to Sidney and Harley Dickey for "The Best Sugar Beets Grown in the United States." There is also a photo of Joseph "Toots" Mondt, a farm boy from Eaton who beat a carnival wrestler in record time in 1912, took his job, and later cofounded the World Wide Wrestling Foundation.

The best exhibit is Katherine McHale Slaughterback, who made a name for herself in 1925. The 31-year-old nurse and mother found herself and 3-year-old son surrounded by snakes.

Kate and Ernie had been out looking for ducks left behind by hunters, but soon were surrounded by a spaghetti-plate full of hundreds of rattlesnakes.

Using her .22 Remington rifle, Kate unloaded on the pool of snakes, but quickly ran out of ammo.

With glycerin madness in her eyes, Kate pulled a 'No Hunting' sign out of the ground and went Chuck Norris on the snakes, clubbing the rest of them to death. Two hours later the score was "Kate 140; snakes, 0."

Rattlesnake Kate gained fame across the country. She also made fashion history using over 40 snakeskins and her best Betsy Ross skill set to build herself a dress. It was flapper-fashion with Crocodile-Hunter flare; accessorized by snake-skin-covered shoes, a rattlesnake "rattle" necklace, earrings and a headband that contained 37 rattles.

Kate pioneered a work-from-home business hunting snakes, collecting venom for a research lab and crafting and selling snakeskin souvenirs.

According to researchers at the museum, Kate was a handful; married six times and possibly into prostitution. Questioned whether she was ever bit by a snake, all signs point to 'no'; however, Kate was struck by lightning... and lived to tell about it.

Another historical treat in Greeley is the Centennial Village; a 5.5-acre museum with 26 buildings.

The village is an up-close Home and Garden experience where you can examine the living quarters of immigrants and families from 1860 - 1930. The wood-frame farmhouse of Rattlesnake Kate is one of the buildings on site along with a board-and-batten one-room structure popular during the dry land homesteading era. The inside may seem roomy, but that's because only the essentials were needed for survival, that being a bed, stove, table and chairs and a few tools and cooking utensils. Newspapers were used as wallpaper, insulation and caulking; survival depended upon resourcefulness and creativity.

Saturday, July 3, "Around the Bend" Column Today

Read my column in today's WEST BEND NEWS.

Day 7, July 2, 2010 Greeley, Colorado

GREELEY, COLORADO - Pulled into Denver via Greyhound at 6:30 a.m. Had my bike unboxed and put together and was on the road within a half hour.

Found the fabulous South Platte River Trail; a wonderful paved trail just outside Denver that parallels the river as it ribbons north. Known for birds and wildlife, the Platte River puddled along in brown fashion to the east of the trail. If the water didn't provide enough direction, the aroma (read "smell") of the river let you know it was still right there.

On the other side of the trail is a five-foot-high wire fence. The fence is woven thinly enough that small white butterflies could easily pass through the webbing, yet feathery seeds of cottonwood could be caught in flight and delayed a day.

Forty-two miles up the road I spent the night in Brighton. A bit rundown from being on vacation a week, I needed some motel therapy and a chance to regroup.

The next morning, I made my way north on Hwy 83 to Alba; took a break in Greeley and stayed.

Don Eckhardt at George's Bike Shop on 7th Street was a much-needed distraction. Don was third generation owner of the store. "My Grandpa George opened this in 1937 with P.C. Mann," said Don. P.C. had a gun shop and sporting goods store in the front and Don's grandfather ran the bike shop in back. In 1937, George bought the whole building. The shop featured well-worn hardwood floors and high 30-foot ceiling. In the 1950's, George's Bike Shop was all about bicycles, but in the 1980's there was some diversification with lawnmowers and chainsaws - then locksmith work and gun-smithing.

"My grandfather drilled all the safety deposit boxes in town and taught himself how to temper metal," said Don, as he worked in the repair shop at the back of the building with a lathe to fix a shim on a seat post. Don was 58-years-old and had a simple salt-and-pepper taste in fashion. His short-cropped white hair, mustache, and goatee were set off by a black Diamondback t-shirt, black knee-length shorts, black bicycling socks and SixSixOne bicycling shoes.

"Been working here going on 41 years now," he said, pointing to newspaper photos of his father, who had been in the business 50 years. His grandfather - famous for riding unicycles - worked until he was 72.

The workshop in the rear of the store was an organized mess of busted bikes, piles of parts and years of family memories. "Up there on the wall is the first skateboard my dad tried to kill me with," said Don, pointing to the relic from 1959. The skateboard consisted of nothing but a slab of wood and wheels from an old roller skate. "The skate was cut in half and I could really make that baby turn," said Don. "My dad showed me how to go down the driveway. He ended up falling and chipping his elbow," said Don, with a little laugh. "He didn't show me anything after that."

Other interesting items littering the workshop included a green banana bicycle seat, a pile of inner tubes that completely rendered a chair useless, and a line shaft with a three-phase motor. "My grandfather bought that line shaft from a feed store across the street in 1925," said Don. "I can use it to run an air compressor, drill press, lathe, grinder, anything a belt will run - I can even run an old key duplicator off it." Don said the line shaft helped him keep his bills down. "Uses a dollars' worth of electricity a month," he said.

Overall, George's Bike Shop was making it in the down economy. "If you fix stuff, they find you," said Don. "If you repair stuff, they dig you out of the woodwork."

Don just finished fixing a bunch of bikes for the local daycare. "It was a pile of junk is what it was," he said.

"If I depended on sales, I might have to do something different. That's why I got this all, because I can repair stuff."

Remembering back to his first bike, Don said his dad gave him a Royce Union sidewalk bike with large rubber tires. "It was hard rubber, like on a tricycle - difficult to ride." Don described the bike as "ugly red" and guessed it was already 10 years old by the time he got it.

"My dad actually built a 12-foot unicycle with a 12-inch wheel so he could show the 'carnie' guys how to ride." Don's dad grew up a block from the railroad track in Greeley. In the 1930's, when the train came through town, it would stop and a carnival would set up. A framed yellowed newspaper clipping showed Don's dad on a unicycle, riding down the aisle at the store.

Don, however, didn't live for bikes; his real passion was dirt bikes. "Bikes are alright, but I'm more into throttles," he said. "You like to ride around the world - I'd like to race around the world."

Piled up in the back of the shop were a couple of weary Kawasaki motorcycles and a Honda or two. "Part of the fun... is getting hurt," said Don, as he walked to the back of the shop and took a long swig from a can of Dr. Pepper. "I got 30-years-worth of injuries." "Broke my neck, my ribs, my legs, my sternum," he said, pulling his t-shirt tight against his chest to show me the disfigurement.

"Tore my bicep and got this elbow all cut up. I broke my toes; matter of fact I can hold a pool stick between my toes now." And he showed me... Taking off his shoe and putting his sock foot up on the counter Don put his pointer finger to the right of his big toe. "Ya see," he said, with proof.

I actually never had any doubt, but now I was lucky enough to see Don's toe trauma and I was convinced he was held together by an array of pins and titanium plates, and may be able to perform a solid break should we be teamed in a pool game later that evening.

TIDBITS...

- The train depot in Greeley serves as headquarters for the Chamber of Commerce. Bill Sterling was on the clock and so was Bella, a 5-year-old English bulldog. "She's the director of greeting," said Sterling. Bella was a beast - about 80 pounds packaged into a 2-foot-long frame. She reminded me of a sack of potatoes with deep brown eyes and an extremely sad under-bite. Bella would have been the last kid picked on the playground, so it was a good thing she was adopted by Greeley.

- Greeley has a population of 90,000 and last week country star Keith Urban was in town at the 88th Annual Greeley Stampede. Tickets for the show topped out at $69 apiece. Cinderella and Warrant headline at the Stampede Arena tonight.

Day 6 June 29, 2010 Carson City to Salt Lake

RENO - After 62 miles in record 110-degree heat on Monday I opted to go with Plan B - catching a bus in Reno to Salt Lake City, Utah.

Bikers across Santa Clarita and Carson City agreed it would be dumb to try and take Highway 50 across the Nevada desert. Plus, considering Sherwin Summit 7,000 feet, Smokey Bear Flat 7,600 feet and Deadman Summit 8,036 feet... I knew I was in need of some public transportation therapy.

Not to mention... I could feel it. The next day, after the heat and the hills, it took me three elephant-heaves just to get out of bed.

And like Venus Williams at Wimbledon.... I just didn't feel on my game.

Bicycling from Carson City to the Greyhound station in Reno I tried to make myself cooler by unzipping my jersey; I rolled up my sleeves, pushed down my socks and turned the cuff up on my biking shorts.

Not exactly Lady Gaga at New York Stadium but think: Lady Gaga Amish...

...if that's even possible.

I took the eastern scenic route to Reno through Washoe Valley.

The highlight was the Postal Cafe - a combination restaurant/U.S. Post Office located on East Lake Blvd. just up the street from Kruse's Feed & Hardware - the street sign read, 'Hay, grain, vet supplies, tack, propane, electrical, kerosene, plumbing' and 'Get your rodeo food here.'

Trudy was working the counter at the one-room store. The restaurant was to the left - with a cash register, stack of newspapers and four stools.

Menu items included 'soup of the moment' and BLT express; "That's a play on express mail," said Trudy.

The postal counter was to the right - a scale, stamps under glass and a bunch of U.S. postal policy and pricing posters.

Trudy greeted everyone walking through the door with the same sign-song 'Hello, how are you - you can sit anywhere. Can I get you some water?'

A couple of coffee customers sat at the front counter and consistent post office traffic filtered in and out.

"I'm pretty good at handling it myself," she said, while making change for five postcard stamps.

Trudy, dressed in a black apron and tribal-patterned black beret, considered herself a chef with a postal habit; she made it clear she wasn't a federal employee. "This is a real lucrative deal for the post office because I don't get benefits."

"They just contract out for this spot and simple mailing service."

Christmas, she said, is when it REALLY got busy.

"We have packages lining this wall all the way to the back of the room and packages all along that far wall," she said, sweeping her arm across the interior of the store.

"We have a lot of people with eBay businesses out of their home and we're the closest post office with normally very little wait."

RENO's BONNIE..

Checked with two more bicycle shops in Reno and both said I was better off taking the bus across the desert.

Got to the Greyhound station downtown and had my Bonnie-experience.

"One body - one bike," she said as I rolled up to the ticket counter.

"The bike's an extra $30 and you'll need a box. You need a box? You know what you're doing - got the tools?"

Within a minute Bonnie was dragging a flat piece of cardboard the size of a refrigerator out of the back room.

"Flag me when you get that taken care of and we'll tag it and get you a ticket," she said running back behind the counter to get the phone and help another customer.

Bonnie had long black hair with bangs; 30-something, cheery, a great multi-tasker with a very dry, deadpan sense of humor.

She'd be somebody you’d want on your team, whether it be a cat fight, a bar fight or an argument.

"Listen guy, " she said to a young man in a white wife-beater filling out a Western Union money transfer. "I need an address. Anything, just put down anything because the computer's not taking it." "I'm gone for one day and they install this thing and I come back and now I'm the one in charge of all things Western Union," she complained.

Bonnie used to be a bartender. She took the job at Greyhound because the hours were better.

"No more working until 2 a.m. and no more weekends, although I have to work this weekend and no more nights... although I have to work tonight."

"But I told my boss, I'm drinking at 5 o'clock so if you want me to work tonight - I'm just letting you know."

A man in camouflage pants and dreadlocks to his knees walked up to the counter. "That little bag of chips just enough to piss you off," she said to the guy as she picked up the phone and reached in her drawer for more change for him to feed the vending machine.

Bonnie was experience in action and she knew well enough not to make a big deal out of things. Like, how I was only able to box my bike with the seat hanging out the top.

"I'll just hide this in back for you and the rest of your gear if you want so you can go walk around."

In this day of 9-11 security, that was unheard of.

I took off around Reno. The free entertainment rolling through the middle of town was the river. Tons of people, teenagers, moms and kids, families floating two-and-a-half miles down stream on black inner tubes or just body-surfing and riding the current.

Back at the bus depot I walked in about an hour before departure. Sat in front of the TV and watched Larry King announce his retirement when I heard 'Judy come to the desk.'

The traffic at the Reno depot had kicked up 10-fold. "Judy, Judy, Judy... get over here." It was Bonnie, my wingman, over the loud speaker.

"Hun, you'll want to get your luggage and set it over by door number five so you're not fighting for a seat in an hour," she said, while processing another Western Union form and cradling the phone against her shoulder.

I feel I'm living the dream, as strangers from all over step up and take care of me.

TIDBITS....

- A grade-school teacher named Heidi helped pull me across some mountains in California all the way to Lake Tahoe. "You’d never make it on a bike and as long as you're here you might as well see it," she said. As we began the long ascent, Heidi talked about how school was changing, her adventuresome father who acted in westerns with Ronald Reagan, and her grandfather who was a famous radio newscaster named Sam Hayes. While Heidi talked... I felt myself leaning toward the center of the vehicle. The mountain to get to Lake Tahoe was HUGE and we... were along the outside guardrail.

After witnessing the beautiful lake, Heidi dropped me at the intersection to ride down the mountain. Nothing like a 12-mile descent at 43 miles an hour. Really... I couldn't wait for it to end and it was exhausting! Again, riding close to the guardrail, no possibility of looking at the great view because of the concentration needed to stay in my lane, read the road and avoid the sewer grates which could easily throw my bike.

- I met George as I was leaving Carson City. He was an old guy with a beard, heavy square glasses with a line for bifocals, and a red running suit with matching jacket and pants. George was watering the plants up against the brick wall by the parking lot of the low-budget motel. He sprayed the plants like he was trying to peel paint off; the plants didn't stand a chance. For 10 minutes George tried to pretend he knew how to get me from here to there. I, pretended to listen; playing along and exercising my skills to strengthen patience. When George finally took a breath, I thanked him and made obvious motions that I was soldiering on.

George had one final bit of wisdom. "I hear bikers and dogs are alike," he said. "They like to check out each others rear."

I look up and here's George, bent over and looking extremely closely at ...um, well, um - err my rear wheel.

No slang or double entendre.... my bike tire.

I shrugged and told him "I hope he liked what he saw."

- Tattoos are all the rage in Carson City and in Reno. Not just like one or two, but an entire sleeve on both arms of tattoos. Met a guy named Eric, he ran a place called Sober Santa Fe which was a shelter/rehab facility. Eric was finally out of prison and staying clean. His entire skull was tattooed, as were his arms and neck. He said a lot of the work was done for free, by his buddies. "If I could take it all off, I would," he said.