Honey Bee
Larry rode 110 miles yesterday, all but ten he fought strong cross or head winds. It was the first time I diligently monitored his progress on my phone.
“According to my calculations, you’re almost to Hazelton. It’s 63.3 miles from there to Gackle… You gonna make it to Gackle?” I texted at 1:22 p.m. He never replied.
There were long gaps when his position was unavailable. ‘Now I remember why I didn’t like monitoring his whereabouts. One more added worry.’
Sometimes he’d disappear for an hour or two.
Rumble strips across the entire shoulder.
At dusk he was approximately 17 miles from his destination. “He’s going to get in after dark,” my visiting daughter stated. Worry again filled my mind, ’There’s nothing you can do,’ I told myself.
“Want to watch TV?” I asked her. We binge watched 4 episodes of Ted Lasso. Highly recommended.
It was dark when Larry called.
“I made it.” He said.
“Good.” I replied.
“I drank a gallon of water and was still dehydrated,” he continued. “The terrain was unchanging, fields of corn, soybean, or alfalfa. Light traffic, I didn’t see a car sometimes for miles. And I had my first case of road rage.”
“Don’t tell me that.” I replied.
“I had a good shoulder, three to four feet right of the white line when a semi hauling grain from twenty feet behind me until thirty feet in front laid on his horn. Everyone else so far has been courteous and respectful.”
“What were his tags?” I asked.
“North Dakota. But you know we have the same thing in Colorado.”
“How many cyclists have you seen so far?”
“Three. Two eastbound and one westbound, a few days ago. Most everyone cycles June through August because the weather is so unpredictable in September.”
“Maybe they have jobs or school in the fall.” I suggested.
“Maybe. Do you remember the book, Beekeepers Lament?” He asked.
“Yeah, its a great book. We have it on our book shelf.”
“The place I’m staying, The Honey Hub is run by his son, the fifth generation family bee keeper.”
“Did you meet them?” I asked.
“No, nobody is here. The family is in California, they are only here during the summer for the bees,” he said, “there’s a flyer on the wall with family pictures:
“The summer of 2012 we began noticing a lot of cyclists coming through Gackle. Most were looking for the same four things, a shower, laundry, lodging, and WiFi. Being an Ironman and cyclist myself I was interested in meeting these cyclists and assisting them in local city services. One day during a storm we invited a cyclist named Aruba to rest in our basement, and the rest is history…
”What’s killing honeybees…when my father kept bees he typically experienced around 5% colony loss. From 2010-2015 we averaged about 30% loss, in 2020 we lost 50% of our bee colonies. We have dealt with these losses by splitting more of our hives in the spring …we also re-Queen failing colonies all through the year as we struggle to keep our colonies healthy. Want to learn more, visit www.honeybeehealthcoalition.org.”
“Is there any mention of the dad, who wrote the book? Do you know if he’s still alive?” I asked.
“There’s no mention, he probably retired.”
“Yeah, he probably retired and is doing something stupid.”
Larry laughed, “Probably.”
