Memo Book II
July 1 – July 17
July 1– day 12– Day off is bad it seems. After days of intense physical activity, the inactivity leaves you sluggish.
Walked across the pahoehoe flow to the Indian cave. Large (865 ft long) lava tube 28 feet or more in diameter. Boy Scout cave has ice in it at all times, but couldn’t go into it, the bike light didn’t have enough candle power.
Worried a little about my left hand. The numbness in the ring and middle fingers doesn’t seem to be going away. Nor in the heel of the hand. Vacillating in mood. Yesterday I was sure I would make it all the way, today feeling a little unsure if I want to go on. And it’s on the days off that I resent Judy’s presence more. I hope I learn a lesson from all of this.
Instead of my mind being stimulated, I find it becoming dulled. The physical aspects of cycling encourage nothing but sensual perception. Which is not bad I suppose, but two months of it may be too much. I rarely think about writing (maybe that is not true– which could be an indication of the effects of cycling on the mind. You never remember what you’ve been thinking.) Today my body seems weak, I’m a little depressed, whereas yesterday I was elated. Amazed at what a machine the body was– I babble. I think it’s the day off, no doubt about it.
July 2– day 13– Good day across the desert. Cool with friendly winds. Hand still numb in the fingers, but didn’t seem to get worse. Threw $13.95 up in the air for some high powered top notch cool dude bicycle gloves. I hope they help. The hand is significantly weaker than the other.
Judy talked to her kids. I must resign myself. She’s on for the duration of the trip it looks like. I had it figured wrong from start to finish.
Got into Idaho Falls about 4:15, started a mad dash for the P.O., everybody giving different directions, but a little something in common to all, finally found it, but it wasn’t where the gen delivery was. 4:45, dashed to another P.O. with only a few minutes to spare.
July 3– 14 day– Hard day, climbing out of Idaho Falls, strong east wind making it work. Really nice rolling Alpine meadows, then down into the valley along the Snake, past Palisades dam and along a reservoir, lots of ups and downs. A tough 71 miles. At times you wonder what the hell are you doing this for, wouldn’t it be nicer to be sitting somewhere drinking beer. But when you make it to the end of the day, what the hell.
I think I’ve [got?] to tell Judy she has to quit at Franklin, Nebraska, if she’s still along. At least I thought that this morning. I let her irritate me too much. I get irrational, blaming her for things that are not her fault. I spent most of the morning thinking about her instead of enjoying the ride. It’s like having to ride two bikes at once, plus maintain them both. It’s not worth it to have her along. And yet I hate to tell her she can’t continue. She’s shown some guts, overcome some painful physical problems. And of course, I feel responsible for encouraging her when I thought there was no way in hell she could come in the first place (and now I think she’ll drop out on her own before or by Nebraska and I won’t have to force her– I am not sure I can.) But this trip is too big a deal, and there is enough about it that is unpleasant, without the added irritant of being with someone that gets on your nerves much of the time. All this assumes I’ll want to continue after Nebraska. Oh well, time will tell as they say.
Anyway we made it to Wyoming tonight. Maybe a 4th of July Rodeo in Jackson tomorrow, Steven’s wedding day.
July 4th, 1976. 15 day. Got a late start. When we got in the park last night at Alpine the mosquitoes immediately pounced upon us. They were still there in the morning.
Nice ride along the Snake to Jackson, had snack in Hoback Jt.
200 years. Why not spend it in Jackson Hole at the rodeo. So a short day and a celebration tonight. Perhaps the continental divide tomorrow. Hot and sunny in Jackson, lots of bicentennial campers on the road. Tomorrow probably worse. Everyone going home. Steve probably tying the knot about right now–
Went to the rodeo– Somewhat disturbing. A man was killed in the bull riding– had a spinner, his hand stuck in the bull rope. He was just flopping along limply, a rag dummy, completely overwhelmed. The only difference between that and Lyons’ death in Harvesting Ballads is there was no Swainson’s hawk circling above, and the clown wasn’t gored. I don’t know why that disturbed me more than the normal disturbance at seeing someone killed (the first time, come to think of it, that I’ve seen someone die). I had naturally thought of the scene in my book before the bull riding began, almost hoping for it in a way, and then for it to happen so close. Actually it’s just an inordinate arrogance to think my will could have such an effect on the capricious universe.
After the rodeo, the town was going crazy (during too, I’m sure). I heard it was the most people to ever be in Jackson Hole at one time. The restaurants were running out of food. I heard stories of bottle rockets set off in bars, etc. The drunks yelling and talking loud all through camp. Couldn’t sleep thinking about the bull riding death and all the noise.
July 5– day 16– Reasonable start, considering, about 9:00. Real pleasant ride to Moran Jt. Had lunch at a KOA 6 miles east of M.J. and made our assault on Joguita pass at about 1:00. Some girls from bike centennial passed us while we were eating and we caught them at Togwatee Lodge, 9 miles from the Summit, at 3:30. One was suffering the same numbness as I, it was clear in her wrists. Said it was the ulnar nerve in the wrist. Some very pleasant people at the lodge. Just the caretakers, the thing is closed awaiting new buyers. Had ice water and lemonade. One of the girls (ulnar nerve) spoke of the different moods you go through on a bike trip. It’s so true. I was talking of where we’d been etc. and couldn’t keep anything straight. Said we started at the Florida Coast. Spoke of biking through the Utah desert. Real strange disorientation. Finally made it over the pass at about 5:30.
On the way down we caught Ulnar Nerve looking for her wallet she had lost, dropped. Stopped to help look, discovered a moose grazing near. Tried to sneak up on him with my camera, without much success. Finally found the wallet, it had skidded or rolled all the way down the hill almost to where she had finally stopped her bike.
Had I not stopped to help we would probably have made it all the way to Debois. As it was we stopped at a KOA about 15 miles west at 7:00. We could have gutted it on in, but were tired after a fairly tough, but very nice day. The Tetons are fantastic. It should be all down hill until the Mississippi. But there could be wind problems as we drop south through Wyoming.
July 6– day 17– 8:00 start. Ice and water in the tent. I don’t know why so much water condenses in the tent.
Met up with the bike centennials in Dubois. Bought sponges. Good riding most of the day. Lot of high gear. When we turned south had some head wind, but not debilitating. The downhill won over the wind. Got a little hot, so spirits sagged some toward late afternoon but ended up in a great campsite south of Lander. Hruska the stone merchant. $2.00 included two free Root Beers, tenting on his hay meadow, and all the hot water we want. But the usual mosquitoes bite right through your shirt. And I’m not sure how effective deep woods off is against them.
I felt good most of the day. Wish I was alone (rather that Jim was along). But am equivocating on decision to tell Judy to quit at Freemont, Neb. (or whatever it’s called). I’ve realized this trip can mean a lot to people doing it, and especially to Judy. She spoke of the possibility of Moe being arrested on some gambling charge and no one to look after her kids. She said she wouldn’t stop the trip, her parents or sisters would just have to keep them. She is serious about going all the way and the farther we go, the more determined she seems to become. I’ll have to admit it must be mind boggling for someone who’s never done much their entire life, and for whom this is the first major endeavor against her parents’ will (except for major fuckups in her personal life, which were more self destructive than anything). So can I really make her quit. The question is how much of my trip must I, or should I, sacrifice for her. I mean isn’t halfway pretty amazing in itself. And the question of how much am I really sacrificing. I must ponder it some more.
July 7– day 18– left pretty early, hell of a climb into Sweetwater. Getting hot. Laid over in Jeffrey City with the Bike Centennials until about 4:00. Then headed on to Muddy Gap and Lamont. When we turned south it was so late the wind had died, so no trouble. Camped in a barren field in Lamont.
July 8– day 19– Good early start, made it to within 6 miles of Rawlins before the wind came up.
Darn bike fell over and bent the right pedal. Ran around looking for a replacement. Couldn’t find one. My man at the Bike Shop straightened it a little. It’ll last until I find a replacement.
Went on I-80 to Walcott. Hot. Windy. Another moral collapse. Napped under freeway bridge until 4:00, headed for Medicine Bow. Long about Hanna perked up. Although a clunk has developed in bottom crank and man my left hand seems worse.
July 9– day 20– Sitting here in the Medicine Bow park, a german shepard type pup chewing on things. The wind still after a line of thundershowers came through, around to the southeast. No rain on us. The maintenance man is mowing the football field. Just woke from a short nap. The same all-day sluggishness. Judy called her kids today. She said she will stop August 1st. I’ll quit worrying about it. (I’ve got better things to worry about, like my left hand.) I thought I’d mention the kids in Lamont and it brought on a very emotional, quasi-guilty response from her. She seems to feel guilty about not feeling guilty about leaving the kids for the summer. She got very irrational when I mentioned it might not be good to leave them for so long. She decided not to continue the trip, but not to go home either, to go to San Francisco or something. Anyway, I felt bad about the whole thing because the kids weren’t what was on my mind anyway. What really bothers me is being associated with her. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t like being associated with a woman who isn’t extremely attractive. Of course there are other aspects of her that I don’t like either. Her dependence on me for everything, her inability to make decisions, or to hold an opinion in opposition to mine. She says she always feels inferior. It all brings out the worst in me. And the thought that if something happened to me, I couldn’t depend on her to get me out, or to do what was necessary to get me out.
But forget about it now. And there are things about her I like. And the trip has been important to her, and she hasn’t (yet) made it bad for me. Just irritating now and then. So enough of the subject. Just hope I’ve learned a lesson.
Worked on the bike. My rack keeps slipping down and pinging the back brake. I may have to resort to bailing wire. I can’t find anything about the clunk in the left crank while not riding. It may be my shoe, who knows. My hand remains my biggest concern, and a new carbuncle or boil on my ass. Wonder lately how much fun this trip has been the last few days.
I worked on the set theory book a little today. It was sort of fun. I think, when I get settled again, (if ever) I’m going to enjoy working in Math again.
July 10– day 21– What figured to be the worst stretch heading south out of Wyoming to Fort Collins, turned out to be the best day to date, 130.5 miles. Did 58 miles by noon to Laramie. Tried to get a new pedal, but no luck. Ate lunch, had watermelon, down by the Amtrak station.
By the time we left Laramie, the wind had come up strong and it looked like rain to the south. One good thing, it cooled down. Struggled against strong head wind and some rain to the siding. Got some milk and fruit pies, and as we ate, the wind changed to the NW to our backs. We hauled ass on up to the border, and it was downhill all the way to Fort Collins.
At the border was an illusion of uphill when it was really down. Fantastic sensation.
Really felt like a god on his vehicle, flying through the mtn passes, along the top of the world. High gear almost all the way, 44 miles. Only rough part was last 8 miles to campsite east of town.
July 11– day 22– Just to show in der ganzen Christheit wird einem nichts geschenkt.
Today should be a good day, level ground, SW wind. But it’s SE hard and hot, as if the Windgod were offended (there isn’t a god of wind, wind is a god). We’ve straggled along 50 miles or so, resting now in the ghost town of Buckingham. And there seems to be nothing between here and Sterling, 44 miles away. We had to eat in a cafe in Briggsdale because no grocery stores open. I should be loving this. The harvest going on around. Combines, trucks, wheat, SW wind. But I hurt, and it seems now as if all I’ve been doing lately is hurting. I’ve already forgotten about yesterday. My left hand, my ass, the trip seems now nothing but a test to see how much pain I can endure. Why do I go on. (Because I can’t quit now in the middle of nowhere, and when I get somewhere, I don’t feel like quitting.) The possibility of permanent damage to my left hand is there, but I guess I don’t believe it will happen. And I’m a little like the crazy suckers who climb mtns and freeze off toes, etc. And I know when the wind changes to the SW again we’ll be flying and I’ll feel great. I’m sure we felt good more days than we felt bad, but on the bad days you can never remember the good. I do look forward to the part of the country that’s civilized. More towns, with parks and trees. Warm and friendly. Bad days out here are so bad because you are compelled by the landscape to go on. No tree to lie under, friendly bar to drink beer in. Movie to go to. Nothing but the harsh elements challenging you to give up.
Made it to Raymer just as everything closed. No food but junk food at the filling station, 35 miles to Sterling. Nothing between so we decided to stay here, eat what we had, which turned out to be substantial, noodles, turkey, cream of mushroom cup a soup all cooked together. Cheese and peanut butter from the station. A couple of candy bars, with tea and honey. Pleasant little park to stay in. But the bad news. The guy at the station says the wind always blows from the SE in the summer. I find that hard to believe, but he should know, and we’ll have some idea tomorrow.
60.5 miles. Not too bad considering. Our worst day in a long time, but limited by the geography. We could have struggled on for another 15 to 20 miles, but ended up in the middle of nowhere without much water and substandard food to begin the day with tomorrow, and still 15-20 miles to go to Sterling. Better to stay here, good night’s sleep and good food from the store in the morning.
July 12– day 23– I forgot to mention the sudden short rain that finally came up on us in Medicine Bow. The tent held up well, high wind, without the fly on. The only thing damp was an air mattress on the windward side. The wind blew the side in and water and mud collected on top with the edge of the mattress caught between. But it dried out quickly. So I decided to always put the fly on. It makes the tent roomier, and now we’re in thundershower country, you never know when it’s going to rain.
Another bad day. Not so hot but strong SE wind, especially in the afternoon heading out of Sterling to Fleming. The towns seem to be getting nicer. Parks, trees. We’ve camped in a very pleasant little park with grass, water, large trees with locusts singing. But the day was bad, hard on the body and spirit. Did laundry in Sterling, getting in wasn’t too bad, the wind almost dead cross wind, but the last 10-12 miles it switched to SE and stayed that way and got stronger.
We went into a Pizza Hut for a beer in Sterling. They had all the salad you could eat for $1.15 so we broke down and had a small pizza and salads. Did the spirits good. I got some desitin, diaper rash ointment for my ass. Let’s hope it works. I’d hate to call off the trip because of a sore ass but it sure makes things miserable in tough conditions like this wind where I’m shifting a lot, changing speed and direction suddenly with gusts of wind. Just squirming all over the saddle grinding it in. I also got some more sponge padding for inside my gloves. I can’t really tell, but I imagine the hand is a little better. It’s hard to judge because the fingertips stay numb all the time and it will be awhile before feeling comes back. Bad conditions like today also exacerbate my hand, lots of shifting with the right hand puts all the pressure on the left, and I have to stay hunkered down all the time against the wind. I had to ask myself again today what was I doing all this suffering for. But I thought back, and I think the log will bear me out, for the greater part of the majority of days, I’ve felt extremely good. And a good tail wind will bring me around again, and also aid the healing of hand and ass. The main thing is I almost always feel great when the day is over and the tent is pitched. By the way, heard today it was 101 degrees yesterday. Been in the wheat country. Harvest!! That’s what pisses me off about the bad wind. I should really be enjoying watching the crews come by and the combines in the fields, singing harvesting songs, instead of being miserable. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow.
I’ve noticed the harvest has changed a lot. Air conditioning. Lots of eighteen wheelers, 45 foot hopper trucks in the fields. It’s good to see though, every now and then, an old red GMC and combine held together with bailing wire. Some hard luck Okie out making the harvest.
I think I’ll get a drink of this great park water and hit the sack. Judy had a flat, 1st for either in 1400.
July 13– day 24– TUESDAY– Another thing about yesterday. I got the desitin for my saddle sores, was putting on an application, drawers dropped, along side the highway thinking it was just a truck coming, how was I to know it was a Winnebago full of girl scouts. They got a big laugh out of it, could hear them giggling a half mile down the road. Back to today. Good early start, about 6:45 I’d say, had 30 miles to Holyoke done by 9:15. Looked like it could be another record breaker. But I thought, why the hell, it’s bad enough being miserable because of things you can’t control, wind, bumpy road, numb hands, carbuncles on your ass. Why make yourself miserable on otherwise good days by this compulsion to chalk up miles, take it easy, enjoy the trip. Nebraska at harvest. What could be greater. Was feeling pretty good too. Hands still a little numb, ass felt pretty good. Feeling everything getting better. Made it to Nebraska about 10:30 I’d say. Had a little snack by a roadside table among cottonwoods. Not a breath of wind. There’s a campsite at Enders, would make a 78 mile day. Why the hell push it.
Got to Imperial, 68 miles, by 1:00. Went to the park, ate, slept, had blueberries and ice cream.
Only bad development the spring or spring anchor in the tension cage of the near derailleur of Judy’s bike broke. No real debilitating problem. The tension’s not taken up and the chain hangs slack on the small chainwheel gears. Have to replace it at the first bike shop we find (who knows where that will be– hopefully at McCook). After the stay in the park, headed the 10 miles to Enders. My ass really started hurting, bumpy road, and partly psychological I think. The sky was getting dark in the NW, gaining on us. The clouds caught us at Enders, but still no wind. Made it to the campsite, getting darker, pitched the tent. Could see the Ender elevator caught up in swirls of dust, the field across the embankment of the highway, then it hit, high winds and dust, but no rain. Could see it around us, but none on us. I was a little disappointed. I wanted to really test the tent with water. She held up good in the high wind, which blew for about an hour. Finally ate. Then a little rain came before sunset.
I’m on the beach of the reservoir now. The sun has just gone down. Clouds, colors, birds preparing for evening, in flights. Lightening now and then. The cottonwoods in the wind. But still here by the bank. Cool. The last few boats leaving the lake. Motors not really disturbing. Voices from over the trees that separate me from the cove with the boat landing. The waves now washing ashore from the last boat. I hunker in the sand and write. Now I will watch and listen.
July 14– DAY 25– WEDNESDAY– Left Enders. Pretty good time to McCook. Bills Bike Shop had Suntour rear derailleur for Judy’s bike for $10. Real friendly people, I bought some new pedals, which was a mistake, they were too narrow. The sharp edge hurt my little toes. I should have left well enough alone.
I felt pretty good, but still not really enjoying riding. Enjoy stopping in the little towns, stopping looking at the country. Just stopping. Need a rest to recoup, which we’ll do in Cameron.
Called home to arrange for Momma & Daddy, maybe Steve and Sally, to come up to visit the weekend.
Left McCook about 5:00, made it all the way to Cambridge and a recreation area at a diversion reservoir. Nice. Changed my old pedals back, just about fucked the threads by trying to put the right pedal on the left side– real smart. I deserved to walk the rest of the way.
July 15– DAY 26– THURSDAY– Had a friendly black dog for watchdog all night. Every now and then he’d bark at something. Got off and riding pretty good, but dark clouds in the north. In Holbrook, stopped to eat milk and bananas. Looked like we should hole up for awhile in the park to let it blow over. Just some wind, and no rain, so we headed on through Arapahoe, and things started closing in again. Purple banks in the north getting closer. Wind colder. Not much lightening though. By the time I got to the Jt with 136 the front was passing overhead and starting to rain. I waited for Judy to catch up. Wind getting stronger from the N, rain heavier. Had two miles to go south to Edison, so we tore out, flying over the small rolling hills, through corn fields tossing in the wind and large raindrops. Clouds low and rolling above the road wound into Edison. Rain splattering the street. Saw an old store with front gone, and a trailer stacked with hay inside. Pulled in to weather the storm. But it was just a gentle rain for about an hour. Really pleasant lying on top the bales watching, sleeping. Went to a little grocery and bought things to eat. [?] rain continued on. Wind a problem, but felt pretty good, still mentally down though. Made it to Orleans, decided couldn’t make it to Franklin to pick up the mail before 5:00, so could stay with Judy’s brother-in-law’s brother. She had directions from Naponee. Well, to make a long story short, we rode, slid, pushed up down, gravel, rough sandy roads, for 12 miles and never did find the place, even after directions from a native. By the time we got back to the highway it was almost sundown. Had to rush on to Bloomington, where we found a nice park to camp. So much for fantasies of hot baths and homefried chicken.
July 16– 27 day–FRIDAY– Late start into Franklin to pick up the mail. Looks like the best spot to meet the folks is east of Red Cloud (home of Willa Cather) which is an easy 37 miles or so. And all right with me. Riding less and enjoying it more. I talked to Bill Smith in the Franklin P.O. for awhile before hitting it. Cool day really, hardly a wind. Good day to ride. Too bad I hurt so much. Although I think I’m getting better. I’m sure when I reread these days I’ll get sick of hearing about my numb hand and sore ass. (I’m tired of them now.) No word from Jim at Franklin. A little worried that he won’t be able to join the trip in Bloomington. I guess being on my own would be interesting too. I’d better start preparing myself for that eventuality. Wait and see what happens. Now in Red Cloud park. Went swimming for a bath. Just loafing until time to call home. Easier going. No off day doldrums yet. Sort of enjoying it. Of course we’re now in places that are a little more enjoyable. Viable small towns. Very appealing most of them. Always hear about the stifling atmosphere of small town. Maybe you have to go away and then come back to live in them. Be broadened enough to realize the town for what it is and appreciate what it offers, and ignore, be unconcerned by that which is negative. I guess I’m so attracted to small towns because of the Piedmont experience. It seemed like such a paradise. My vision of utopia I’m sure would look a lot like Piedmont, Okla, 1934. In my mind what a magical place. Amazing wildernesses to explore, a rich diversion of characters, each unique, whose name reflects the individuality, and at the same time becomes a generic type, a universal. Hod Dickerson, G.O. Palmer, Bill Gill, Red Dog Wheeler, the Buddy Twins, Jelly Gill. So many I’ve forgotten or never even heard. And from what I’ve heard Piedmont pre WW II could have been more atypical than I always assumed. Of all the towns, according to the Bell shaped curve theory of social and political development, a very few would be in the top percentile, the utopias of the time, and Piedmont could have been one of them. Daddy’s bitterness at seeing the world crumble is understandable. If only he could see how lucky he was to have been there, to have seen it, lived it, which is much more than any mortal has right to expect, and much more than the lower percentiles ever experience. If only he could, like B. Brecht, in the earthquakes that will come, not let his cigar go out in bitterness. Sit back, relax, be comfortable while it’s still possible, satisfied with the knowledge that he by god was there and knows what it was like. As with most things, I’m ambivalent– polivalent. So much of what I want is in a small town, while so much of it is not there either. Am I doomed to be a wanderer.
Thinking about this bike trip before I started, I was sometimes overcome with awe at what I had in mind. Flying over Penn, N. York, coming back from Boston last spring. But now that I’m half through, I can hardly conceive of it as anything unusual. And the half we’ve done is by far the most spectacular. Desert. Mtns. I can’t put it together in my mind the way I did from 30,000 feet. It’s been reduced to 4 feet visible from under my visor, the white line and the shadow of my feet churning. Contrary to what I’d hoped, you are not conscious of the vastness of it all. Only now and then, especially when you stop on top of a desert pass and view the gigantic panorama. Or flying down a mtn road. Then there are the less majestic, but equally powerful moments, lying on the hay waiting for the rain to pass, the silence of the Oregon forest, evening sun, suddenly ruptured from behind, concussion of a Mack diesel, 45 foot flat trailer stacked plywood 3 feet away crashing past, another, diminishing ahead, visually aurally, around the bend ahead, the pine trees, and silence again. Just the quiet purr of speed chain and derailleur among the Oregon trees. But cycling is introverting. You are always viscerally aware. Temperature, smell of sage, dead antelope, ploughed ground, the song of birds, trains from over the fields, wind but visually only a small percent of the time. And it’s been even worse with the saddle sores and head wind. The harder you work, the less you see. What a pleasure it will be when the sores are gone and the west wind returns.
Called home, made arrangements to meet at the wayside area between Red Cloud and Guide Rock. Pedaled on out 8 miles to nice area, grass by cottonwoods. Red pump for water. No one here but us. One thing about Nebraska, it’s been friendly people and private camping.
July 17–28 day–SATURDAY– Rained last night, that is early this morning, easy rolling thundershower, off and on until around 9:00 – 9:30 I’d guess. Very pleasant. Had leisurely oatmeal and hot chocolate, did the routine off-day bike maintenance, and are now waiting for guests to arrive from Kansas.
Great cottonwood trees here. Strong SE wind, sounds great in the trees, glad not riding in it. But looks like it’ll be here tomorrow and tomorrow. I climbed one of the cottonwoods. Great sport tree climbing. I guess the last one I climbed was in Germany on the boating trip. Feeling good today. Always feel good lately when I’m not riding. But with rest my hand is on the mend. Hopefully my ass too, and little wind, still at least, if not SW, and I’ll be ready to tackle the 2nd half. Come too far to despair now.
485.2
7-1 720.6 TOTAL
7-2 87 568.7 89.3
7-3 71.6 635.7 71.6
7-4 38 676.2 39.1
7-5 73.4 743.1 73.4
7-6 97.8 834.5 97.8
1088.54 TOTAL
7-7 84.0 913.0 84
7-8 93.5 1000.4 93.5
7-9 1265.9 TOTAL
7-10 130.5 1122.4 130.5
7-11 60.8 1179.2 60.8
7-12 55.2 1230.8 55.2
7-13 78.1 1303.8 78.1
7-14 81.7 1381.1 82.7
1672.2 TOTAL
7-15 79.3 1458.0 82.3
7-16 36.9 1492.5 36.9
7-17 1788.4 TOTAL
© philip kimball 2015