To The Golden Gate 8
George Nellis' 1887 Wheel Across
The Continent
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Day 35, June 27
Fremont, Nebraska to Silver Creeek, Nebraska. 67 miles, 10 hours
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From Fremont we were destined to meet the most
expeditious travel on our trip, tho' one could hardly believe it. All day we
were cheered on by level, hard roads, which with few exceptions, are the
predominating highways thro' out the entire state.
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Day 36, June 28
Silver Creek, Nebraska to Shelton, Nebraska. 71 miles, 11 hours
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Tuesday proved even more propitious, and 71 miles were added to the
record. Chapman is a city of some 5,000 inhabitants, pleasantly located, and
contains a fine class of people. A half hour is whiled away in an ice cream
saloon. Halted at Shelton. Some faint recollections yet linger about this
halting place. Here we were compelled to bunk on the floor on a pallet.
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Day 37, June 29
Shelton, Nebraska to Gothenburg, Nebraska. 88 miles, 10 hours
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Wednesday turned out to be the red letter day of our trip, and bids fair
to remain so, unless California hustles out some extraordinary fine roads.
Starting out at 7:30 a.m., we passed thro' Gibbon, Buda, stopped an hour at
Kearney one of the finest places yet encountered in the west. Here we are
again taken in tow and shown around the precincts of a future American
metropolis. Mr. A. E. Atkins, a spirited citizen and extensive land agent,
spends a half hour in expatiating upon the wealth and beauty of his favorite
hobby, and presents some very strong facts to show why Kearney is destined
to be the future commercial and business center of central Nebraska. It is a
town of 5,000 inhabitants, surrounded by some of the most fertile soil in
the La Platte valley and possessing many natural advantages not found
elsewhere. In addition, a canal 16 miles long supplies abundant water for
manufacturing purposes and furnishes the stimulus to Kearney Lake, a fine
sheet of water one-half mile from the city. All in all, Kearney is about as
attractive a spot yet to be found west of the Missouri, and we believe a
bright future is in store for the place. From there to Odessa, Elm Creek,
Overton, Plum Creek, Cozad and finally landed in Gothenburg. About seven
o'clock we had our first experience with a rattler. We were riding along
nonchalantly when all at once there appeared before our steed in the roadway
a streak of green snake [probably not a rattler]. Such as his haste in
getting out of our way he didn't even leave his card and not even a rattle
to commemorate the event. We were about to turn in when along comes a
fortune teller. Seizing our paw, the swarthy maiden of mystery proceeded to
illumine the dark abyss yawning out before us and unravel the countless
threads of intricacy woven about the future career of "me and my bi." We
were compelled to bunk in a room with four beds and as many occupants, and
every mother's son of them snored like unto the boss bugler in a brass band.
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Day 38, June 30
Gothenburg, Nebraska to Paxton, Nebraska. 76 miles, 12 hours
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June 30 was our birthday, and we resolved to do
some-thing extraordinary to commemorate the event and make a fit inscription
for the milestone of our 22nd anniversary. Starting out at 8 o'clock we
cross the Platte river over a bridge one mile long and took a road on the
south side, forty-four miles to North Platte. Stopping at the Pacific Hotel
we secured the best dinner we had for many a day. Here is the home of
"Buffalo Bill," and other personages of like renown. At three o'clock we
mounted our Expert and pointed westward, reaching O'Fallon's, a section
station [on the Union Pacific line]. Here we had supper, and set out for
Paxton, the only place where lodgings were obtainable. Four miles through
sand and we saw the sun disappear. Darkness settled down upon us six miles
from Paxton. Nothing to do but take the railroad for a five mile trudge to
Paxton and a place to lay our weary bones. At ten o'clock we halted before a
fourth class hotel. They had no beds and would make us one on the dining
room floor.
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Day 39, July 1
Paxton, Nebraska to Denver Junction, Nebraska. 58 miles, 8 hours
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Breakfast was the only redeemable feature of
that so-called hotel, and we manage to make up at the table what we lost
elsewhere. Twenty miles passed and Ogallala was reached at 10:50. Here a
stop of two and half hours was necessitated by a ripped bicycle shoe. [Years
later Nellis said he had worn out three pairs of shoes on the journey and
had worn the bicycle tire down to the rim]. About 3 p.m., we overtook
several cowboys in charge of a great herd of cattle, westward bound, and
exchanged some kindly greetings. A short distance further and we came upon a
patriarchal old bull, of gigantic proportions, tied, as we thought, to a
stake in the ground. After eyeing us a moment, he snorted, pawed the ground
and came for our vicinity with no friendly intentions. Instead of being
fast, the rope was merely tied to a heavy iron, and by extraordinary
exertions, his bullship could go where'er he chose. Looking back we saw the
cowboys, and mechanically pointed that way, the bull after us pell mell.
Great beads of perspiration stood out on our sunburned brow, and excitement
lent wings to our flight. Reaching the cowboys we ran around the cattle
drove. One of them dismounted and seizing the rope which held the now
infuriated bull, he succeeded, by a series of dexterous twirls, in getting
it around the animal's fore leg, and drawing it taut, prevented the
circumvented beast from moving a single step. "Now git, youngster, and we'll
keep this critter till you are out of sight." Did we git! Well, in less time
than it takes to tell it we were miles away.
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Day 40, July 2
Denver Junction, Nebraska to Kimball, Nebraska. 82 miles, 10 hours
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When we mounted our Expert Saturday morning, at
Denver Junction [Julesburg], a tremendous gale came over the hills like an
avalanche, and threatened to dislodge our one hundred and forty pounds
[decrease of almost ten pounds]. Against this we pedaled on an up grade for
fourteen miles to Chappell, and just in time to escape from one of those
Nebraska showers which spring up at all hours, and go about as sudden as
they come. We wheel into Sidney and take dinner at the Pacific Hotel. On to
Kimball over the best road of the day, registering at Hotel Martha at eight
o'clock.
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Day 41, July 3
Kimball, Nebraska to Hillsdale, Wyoming. 55 miles, 7 hours
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Sunday we resolved to desecrate in an endeavor
to reach Cheyenne to spend the glorious 4th. Nine miles of sand cheered us
on to the border line of Wyoming territory [Statehood in 1890]. A better
road now appeared and we went five miles in no time. Suddenly feeling behind
us for our saddle bag, we only felt the place where that useful article
usually was. Great Scott! Lost saddle bag and 46 miles from Cheyenne. We
were positive that the bag was there at the start. Nothing to do but go back
and get it, and we performed the right-about-face tactic with exceedingly
bad grace. Long and anxiously did we scan the roadway until just three miles
back our optics espied the innocent cause of all our trouble. Well the bag
wasn't to blame. The strap which confined it had worn completely in two, and
of course no ordinary bag could stay with nothing to hold on to at the rate
we were going. We were doomed to still further persecutions. A run of six
miles farther and we struck Egbert. Starting out, a half mile from the
station a big rain-storm suddenly put in some more protests against our
celebrating the Fourth at Cheyenne and back to Egbert we skidaddled. We took
supper at the section house and again embarked for Hillsdale. This distance
was made partly riding and partly walking. Here we found a jolly son of Erin
all alone, the rest of the family as he said, has gone up Cheyenne to
"cellybrate the Fourth." A big bowl of bread and milk was forthwith laid
before me.
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Day 42, July 4
Hillsdale, Wyoming to Cheyenne, Wyoming. 20 miles, 3 hours
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I was awakened at five next morning by the
smell of coffee, fried eggs, ham and toast. We insisted on his taking four
bits and departed. One hour and we were at Archu. Forty-five minutes later
we passed Atkins and were at the same time greeted with the far away summits
of the Rocky mountains, their snow capped peaks looming up into the clouds
about 75 miles away. We now take a coast of eight miles into Cheyenne,
pulling up before the Metropolitan hotel at nine o'clock. We saunter out to
see a part of the great celebration promised us there. Ye gods! Gentle
reader, after all this hurry and trouble was it not outrageous for the first
fellow we met to tell us "there was no celebration," but a church picnic and
a juvenile ball game in the city. Returning to the hotel, we write several
letters, get a good dinner and then feel better. Several bicycle men then
claim our attention and a visit to their handsome club rooms enlivens the
dreary aspects of a quiet Fourth of July. Here we found pool and billiard
tables, besides other games. A fine reading room, good gymnasium, bath
rooms, and in fact a complete 'cycling paradise. One of our newly made
friends was a former Herkimer county boy, hailing from Manheim [near Little
Falls, New York]. His father, Stephen Ransom, emigrated to this country in
1855 and has since lived here. In the evening we saw "Janish" at the city
opera house, and a fine building it is.
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Day 43, July 5
Cheyenne, Wyoming to Tie Siding, Wyoming. 44 miles, 6 hours
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Tuesday morning we devoted to business and at
12:30 wheeled out of the city on our last 1,000 miles more to the golden
gate. From Cheyenne we point westward along the U.P. railroad [Union
Pacific] and enter Granite Canyon. This is a lonely though rough and
romantic spot, and is only attainable by several miles of tall climbing.
Pushing on we stop at Sherman, the highest point on the Union Pacific, for
supper. This place is 8,242 feet above the ocean level, and the country for
miles around is revealed in an endless succession of rock turreted hills and
winding valleys, dotted here and there and everywhere with massive boulders, with an occasional mountain peak standing
out like grim sentinels on the lovely landscape. A monument of gigantic
proportions is here erected to the memory of General Ames, ex-superintendent
of the Union Pacific Railroad. From here we have an easy coast of seven
miles to Tie Siding, and put up for the night at a fourth rate hotel. [The
name and importance of the town came from the fact that great quantities of
railway ties were cut in the forest north of town and transported to the
railroad line]
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