First, it was the turtles. Box turtles; lots of them. All trying to cross the road. I was so busy trying to avoid them that I didn’t see much of the countryside for the first twenty miles or so. Then it was the skunks—mile after mile of stinky, suicidal skunks. 

Later, I was grousing that I had little chance to see the grassland birds while driving when, just ahead of me, a scissor-tailed flycatcher launched itself skyward from a fence post. Thee is no mistaking that profile, even at a quick glance. I was thrilled. 

A little way on, I found Russ, just two hours into his ride and already dripping with sweat in the 90 degree heat. We both stopped: I made sure he was OK, and we continued on. The further west we go, the easier it is for me to follow his route, as there are fewer choices in roads. I’m also getting better at scheduling my stops to his pace, so that he can join me and take a rest day at my camp—or join me for an off-bike adventure—if he wants to. 

Ruark Bluff East campsite sits on a peninsula jutting into Stockton Lake, a huge, multi-branched, manmade (that Army Corps of Engineers again) lake. There are hiking opportunities nearby, and kayak rentals to be had at the state park just up the road. I had planned to take my kayak on this trip, but decided not to at the last moment: I think I just started to feel overwhelmed at that point. But I packed my paddle and life vest, and it looks like I’ll finally get to use them. 

And I did, after Russ joined me. We found a marina with a tandem kayak, and spent a pleasant two hours paddling in and out of bays along the lake. To make it even better, it was cloudy and breezy, and cool, not like the blazing hot days we’d had recently. 

But the best thing about Stockton Lake was meeting a family’s three children: a girl about 11 and her two younger brothers, about 7 and 5. When I took the dogs swimming, and showed them they could wade into the lake on the submerged camp road, we instantly became friends, and spent quite a bit of time goofing about in the water. I taught them how to squirt “whale spouts” with their hands and twirled them about on their inner tubes, and we played water tag in the shallows. They were all upset when I had to move my camper to another area of the park, so I came back the next day to play with them again. They were so sweet—I would gladly have stayed another week just to hear them all call me “Miss Nancy.” I am an idiot for not taking a picture with them.

And then, it was finally off to Kansas!