My Hike to the North Platte Airport

Flying to North Platte is a bit of a problem as there are only two flights a day.  I was fortunate enough to find one of the few seats remaining for my trip, but sadly, I could not reserve a rental car before I departed, because I would be arriving after the rental car counter in the North Platte airport closes, and it doesn't rent cars out past closing time.  And the people I was visiting were unable to pick me up either.

Well, I figured, I could get a taxi--airports always have some sort of ground transportation--so I wasn't particularly worried.

When I landed I discovered that there was no ground transportation at all and my Indonesian phone wasn't working either.  I talked to a few people, but no one seemed able to help me.  Finally found a local willing to call the one taxi in N. Platte.  He told me that the taxi would be there in a half-hour.

Two hours later, still no taxi.

Luckily, there is a diner connected to the airport and I decided to stop a trustworthy looking older fellow, who looked rather kindly and harmless.

"Excuse me, sir," I said.  "I can't seem to find a taxi.  Could you tell me which direction N. Platte is when I leave the airport, because I need to walk to my motel."

My intuition was accurate and the kindly retiree who'd just had an enjoyable steak dinner, felt some pity and offered to drive me the 5.2 miles to my motel.  

But from the moment I arrived at my motel, I was anxious about my return trip to the airport.  How in the world would I get back there for my flight out?

All weekend I tried locating a taxi, local mass transit, a local car rental agent not at the airport, Uber, and Lyft.  No options possible.  No one was available to drive me to the airport for my 5 a.m. Monday morning flight.

I even begged at the hotel desk.  Offered the clerk $50 to drive me to the airport.  She couldn't...she was at home with her kids at that time of night. The pimply-faced boy who was cleaning the lobby couldn't either--he'd be busy at his girlfriend's house, or so he said, as I couldn't imagine what his girlfriend might be like.  The clerk said the motel had a shuttle, but I couldn't get on it, because it was reserved solely for railroad workers staying at the motel.

That left me with only one option.  Walking.  5.2 miles to the airport.  In the middle of the night, for my 5 a.m. flight.  So, I checked out of the North Platte Travelodge at 12:45 a.m. for my hike to the North Platte Airport.

The first part of the trip took me down to the river to a trail to get me over the only pedestrian bridge over the river.

It wasn't too concerning until I smelled a powerful, hideous odor: skunks.  They are as frightening as wolves as far as I was concerned, because, if a skunk sprays you, it will stick on you for at least a week, and no airport will even allow you through its doors when filled with such a stench, let alone onto an airplane.  Luckily, though their odor suggested they were fairly close, I was able to avoid a toxic encounter.

The next part of the walk took me across the town of North Platte.  I figured it would be the easiest part of my journey.  It would have been, except for the rows of automatic lawn sprinklers that would go off without warning as I walked down the sidewalks. Luckily I only got drenched once as I trudged through the town.

Then came the most dangerous part of my hike: the void of darkness between the town and the airport.  It's pictured below.  You might be able to see the faint outline of the trees lining the road through the almost total darkness.  

The worst part of the void was the bridge over the Platte River, which was under construction.  Traffic was reduced to one narrow lane without a shoulder for a pedestrian to walk on.  Fortunately, the geography of North Platte is very flat, so I could see for at least 500 meters in both directions and could begin my trip over the 200-meter long bridge when no cars were visible.  I scurried across as quickly as a white-bearded man carrying a 10kg backpack could and made it to the other side without encountering any cars, though I turned on my IPhone flashlight to act as a beacon to shine a light on myself just in case a car might appear.

Two minutes after I crossed the bridge and was back on the shoulder, out of harm's way, a pick-up truck crossed the bridge, so I wasn't that far away from trouble.

At 2:52, I spotted my destination.

Never thought I'd be so happy to see the North Platte Regional Airport.  It only took me 2 hours and 7 minutes to hike the 5.2 miles/8.4 kilometers from my motel to the airport.  I was relieved to enter the airport and find a nice bench.  I was also pleased to find a restroom as my stomach was giving me a little trouble considering the dreadful and unhealthy food I'd been eating in N. Platte, but this is what I discovered at the airport's one Men's Room when I arrived.

As the airport was totally empty and not a soul could be found, I went straight to the women's room to take care of business.  I have no pride and don't care what gender label is on a toilet as long as it flushes.  

Finally after an hour of sitting in a completely empty airport, the airport security staff arrived, surprised to see someone, more than one-hour ahead of their flight, at an airport with only one departure gate.

What is most significant about this story is not the hike itself, but the fact that a regionally important city in the U.S., the biggest town for 100 miles around, offers absolutely no transportation at all for more than two days of the week.  In even the poorest town in Kyrgyzstan, you can get a marshrutka (van) ride, or a share taxi, or a yak cart, or something.  You don't have to walk all the way to your destination.  

Oh well, perhaps I am misinterpreting this embarrassing lack of infrastructure in my country, when really the absence of transportation is part of a new fitness plan to get old out-of-town, lard-asses like me, as well as the poverty-stricken in the community without any vehicles, to do a bit more walking.