Lesterville, Missouri to Eminence, Missouri

After the torrential rains last night, we skipped setting up our own breakfast and instead cycled into town for breakfast at Paula's Cafe - the only place in Lesterville.

Paula (pictured left by the tree) decorates her business with country music albums covers, and old kitchen utensils hanging from the ceiling throughout the dining room, and a large Christmas Tree which, Paula explains, changes theme from Christmas, to Valentines Day, to St. Patricks Day, etc.  Today it is Stars and Stripes.

There is one turquoise faux-leather backed chair with the following written in permanent black marker:  "Leave this chair here please.  Vernnie's Chair."

Finally attached to one large appliance, there is this sign:  "DO NOT SHAKE, KICK, BUMP, OR LIFT This Machine.  This means employers, employees + CORA"

Ellington

A short bike ride but now we are in Ellington and need to stock up because there are now other stops with services until Eminence.

On the way there I spied the typical cow shots but these really seemed cute and they didn't run away when I approached to take the photo.

Turtle on the highway.  Not sure what provokes these suicides in slow motion. Our policy is to move them to the side of the road they face.

Cold Beer and US Ammo. Has to be my favorite sign thus far today. What could go wrong?

Crossing the Current River bridge.  Lovely view but very disquieting whenever large trucks rumble past. The bridge shakes and bounces.  Still we had a little snack and water break here.

We are now in the middle of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri.  Two major rivers, the Jacks Fork and the Current river intersect this land in addition to innumerable underground rivers and springs.  Alley Springs puts out 81 million gallons of water, a day. Big Springs' daily flow averages 286 million gallons a day.

The Ozarks were settled by American-born settlers of Scottish/Irish heritage.  Their families practiced subsistence farming.  In the late 1800s the railroads arrived to bring out the wood for their ties and trestles.  Even still, Ozark regional culture remained distinct emphasizing loyalty to clan and kin, personal independence, and practical recreation like hunting, fishing, trapping and storytelling.

In 1964 Congress established the Ozark National Scenic Riverways  Park. The first of its kind.  Neither the Jacks Fork nor the Current River will ever be dammed.  It is possible to canoe or kayak on either river for 90 to 105 miles.

Biking the Ozarks means hills and lots of them.  By car, hills are just scenery, but on a bicycle they represent the ultimate trade off.  Every grueling foot of ascent and climb is ultimately rewarded by a foot of blissful rapid coasting descent.  The Ozarks are at least fair, at least on this day, because every draining, hot, humid, slow, grueling bike up a large hill, and then up again was rewarded. I would be dripping rivulets of sweat, draining my  water bottles almost as quickly.

Eventually the crest would be reached and the road would arch down and it became a greater thrill ride rivaling any amusement park ride. I would hit speeds in the 43 to 48 miles an hours.  My body, wet, damp, pulsating with heat would suddenly be refreshed beyond expectation as the window would wick away all the sweat and cool me off. The more extended the descent, the longer the relief and I would find myself arching my back or neck, weird yoga moves on a bike, to expose different parts of my body to the wind.

Eventually, as all things do, the road levels off, starts to ascend and the trade off repeats. What the Ozarks give, they make you pay for.

The men's bathroom, not the women's, has a hilarious sign on the bathroom stalls. No Fireworks Allowed. It makes us wonder what happened to make that sign a necessity.

Camping tonight in Eminence along the banks of the Jacks Fork River which wraps around the camp ground protectively.  We can leave our site, turn left and walk five minutes to the river. We wade in and let the current take us and fifteen minutes later we are back to our campsite.  The water is cold, but not too chilly to someone who Bike 53 miles to get here, and I try as best I can to recall dropping my core temperature so that tomorrow when I'm climbing another hill, I can shut out my overheated body from my consciousness.

It's a lovely evening.  No rain.  Earlier we had all our gear out in the sun or hanging up to dry.  Seems to have worked.  Nice sunset.

Farmington, Missouri to Lesterville, Missouri

Pilot Knob, Missouri.  Surprisingly we all stopped here at the Rustler on the cool cloudy day here in Pilots Knob most famous for the Civil War Battle during the night of Sept. 26-27, 1864.

Planning to take control of St. Louis, Confederate Gen. Sterling Price led his army of  12,000 soldiers in an ill advised attack and against the advice of his officers of the well supplied Fort Davidson at the terminus of the St. Louis and Iron Mountain Railroads.

Despite being outnumbered 10 to 1, the Federals were well protected within the steep walls of the fort, and held off the attack until slipping away under cover of darkness.  The attack was so costly to the Confederates that Price lost his ability to attack St. Louis.

Breakfast at the Rustler, the pack Sunday breakfast spot here in Pilot Knob, population 700.  As what seems to always happen, we are met by the friendliest of people.

Knobs.

Of course Barry can't say we are in Pilots Knob, or biking past Knobs without giggling since a knob or nob in the United Kingdom is a slang name for a tiff, or indelicately, a penis head.

Here in Missouri and Kentucky Knobs are higher than hills, but not quite mountains.

Johnson's Shut-Ins State Park.

This park came with a high recommend as a good swimming spot.  The name struck me as a little improbable, that we would be swimming among the elderly, sick, hermits and other shut-ins.

When we came to the park, John and Barry decided to keep going, so I went in by myself.  I was happy to see Norm's, Christine's, and Bill's bikes locked up so I walked down the quarter mile path to the river which eventually gets channeled into these rock fissures creating spill pools, mild whirl pools, chutes, and wonderful little pockets of cooling water.  That geologic combination with water is called a shut-in.

I didn't find Christine and Norm but did find Bill so we went clambering around the rocks and into the pools.  The water was delicious, cool, and perfect.  The day had been a little hot and humid, so it wasn't lost on me how much I enjoyed the cool down.

A real treat.

At the lockers and shop we met back up with Christine and Norm.  Bought some water and chatting with Pamela Mae who graciously offers to let me rinsenout my water bottle.  inevitably the whole biking across America conversation comes up.  It is, I am starting to say, the one unique way that middle aged and older men in spandex can be so welcomed in the heartland.  Yet it's true that I have had more people approach me as cyclist than ever as a driving tourist.

Maybe its because we are seeing spots and places we never would see traveling by car.  This lovely park, for example, would never have made my list, and yet here I am because I am traveling slow, and keeping to small light traffic roads.  It's one of the big reasons we are all doing this - to experience this country in a different way that is almost out of reach any other way.

I've also learned that some cycling jerseys are better than others.  My Navy Jersey opens the most conversations, particularly with fellow veterans.

After the park we were going up a particularly steep hill so I decided to walk the latter steep half.  A car came up behind me and this woman rolled down the passenger window and said, "You're just putting the Navy to shame," laughing and quickly adding, "I'm Air Force and I just had to give you a hard time."  That was funny.

My Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon gets the most comments from younger folks.  The TransAmerica jersey gets a lot of conversation too.

We're camping tonight in Lesterville, Missouri which, after the comforts of the famous former County Jail turned Cyclist Hostel, Al's Place in Farmington is a bit of a change.  Fortunately there were a number of tree candidates for my hammock.

This campground straddles the fast flowing Middle and West forks of the Black River so after setting up camp I went down to the river with Lew, Christine, and Norm.  The water was a little chilly at first but you got used to it right away.

Back to the campsite. Barry and Christine are cooking. I was writing and a thunderstorm erupts and descended upon us.  I jumped in the hammock.  Some into their tents.  Cracking thunder.  I suppose being strung between two trees isn't the ideal location.  There is now an enormous pool of muddy water around me.

Other self evident truths that biking reminds you of.

It is nearly impossible to bike with a closed mouth.  Going up hill you're exhausted and gasping or sucking in air as much as possible.  Going down hill your either thrilled, or your body is diverting energy to your legs and hands. Too often I'm cycling slack jawed and of course bugs whip into your mouth. Some are surly and it's everything you can do to spit the ANGRY buggers out before they attack your mouth more. Some just go in so fast and quick your better off swallowing and thinking protein.  I try to remember to keep my mouth closed, but catch it open every time.

Dinner tonight cooked by Barry and Christine while huddled under the tent while a second deluge of rain hits us.  It isn't cold but it's wet.  Once done, I move my hammock to another spot.

Tomorrow fifty-five Miles to Eminence, Missouri but we are told it is a lot more challenging because of the ups me downs of the Ozarks.

Chester, Illinois to Farmington, Missouri

Leaving Chester.

It's supposed to be hot today so Tom and I left early.  Bill came along too.  Chester is famous for being the birthplace of Popeye.   The town is filled with statues of various characters.

Crossing the Mississippi     is a big highlight and huge physical landmark and milestone.  It's not quite half the country but now the radio and TV stations will start with a K instead of a W.  The Hardee's are still Hardee's and not Carl's Jr.

We're only a fourth of the way through, but bumping upon a third but it feels different, like we're entering the West, if only the Midwest.

Having crossed over the narrow bridge over the wide Mississippi we find ourselves in Missouri.  Our fourth state.

Big hills today, perhaps not compared to the Appalachian portion, but still long and extended hills.  Not a lot of services as well, and so at the near crest of one particularly long hill we came upon the Crown Ridge Tiger Sanctuary.

The Sanctuary rescues tigers that are in captivity and they have about five to ten tigers.  We heard one in the distance - lovely growl.

It is more like a four star resort with lodging and a dark wood paneled restaurant.  We went around back because it was still before opening, and met Chef Ken Viera and his wife Michele and asked for water.  Graciously they filled them up with ice too - always a plus - and then brought out these pastry cinnamon cookies for us.

They are planning a vacation where they will take their kids along the Eastern Seaboard "so they can see where we dated" and Chef Ken will buy seafood off the docks and cook it up.

They then invited us in the restaurant and took a photo with us, something that Chef Ken does with lots of cyclists and posts them on Instagram.    A lovely stop and I wish that we felt that we had the time to do lunch, but the remaining hills and the increasing temperature prod us onward.  As we were about to leave Michele offered to top off our water bottles again.

Ste. Genevieve

Pink Lemonade Cider with BBQ Brisket Nachos at the Crown Valley Brewery and Distillery.   The cider is crisp and good in a hot day like this.  Twelve miles to go.

Farmington, Missouri

In 1870 Saint Francois County constructed a jail out of the local tan limestone and put on it a second story brick living quarter for the Sheriff.  The only escape came in in 1932 when dynamite was detonated on the north wall while 31 prisoners were still inside.

The explosion was so big, that it confused the thirty-one inmates.  A fourteen pound steel cage window sill was found on the roof of the local high school two blocks away.  The explosion also woke the Sheriff who lived on the second floor with his family.  Only seven inmates escaped and all were captured more or less immediately.

The building was decommissioned in 1996 and stood unused for 12 years when it was turned into a unique, city-sponsored Bike Hostel celebrating local Long Johns Silver's owner Al Dziewa who was an avid biker, and community enthusiast.  Al claimed his Long Johns SIlver Restaurant provided the fastest, friendliest and most "fish-ient" service in town.

In 2005 he lost his battle with cancer, dying at the age of 49, and this hostel was organized in his honor.  It is the top rated biker hostel in the nation.

Today as we biked in, we rode through downtown until coming smack dab into a fair.  Farmington Country Days Festival runs this weekend and it is everything you would expect in a small city or county summer fare.  Games, corn dogs, rides, tricycle pulls, beer, henna tattoos, bands and young people doing that uncomfortable ritual of being a teenager in America.

Carbondale, Illinois to Chester, Illinois

We are taking an alternative route to Chester, the Mississippi Levee route.  The road is flat and peaceful.  There's been some flooding but that has only made it more hospitable to the egrets and beautiful scenery.  Lovely ride.

Lunch today at the Bottoms Up Bar known, among other things, it’s fried chicken.  We got there a little early.

The spitfire of a waitress, Chrissy, came to take our order and she was very deliberate about the order she was going to take the table's order.  Lew, having already ordered tried to change his order, but Chrissy would have none of it, telling him to wait his turn when she came around again.

Gina arrived from the motel and joined us for lunch.  Great to have her again, even if just for lunch.  We took off and she followed us for a while and then sped off to make the airport in St. Louis.

Chester.

A good ride but lots of big hills and hot, humid (44%) weather with little or no wind.  The last five miles into town was a little jarring with a seeming endless parade of coal trucks dropping off or picking up coal from the barges that slowly ply their way through the inscrutable waters of the Mississippi.

Chester happily celebrates its famed local resident Elzie Crisler Segar who created Popeye.  Popeye statutes are scattered throughout the town.  There is also a major food producer company in town that manufactures bakery mixes for a number of labels.  Their workers wandering around the downtown all dressed in white.

We are on the edge of the Mississippi now, so this is our last night in Illinois.

We stay tonight in the park of the Order of the Eagles, a fraternal organization that also runs a bar and restaurant that specializes in all sorts of fried food.  The Caesar Salad with grill chicken a notable exception.

Rare opportunity to have a haircut tonight in a caboose for eight dollars.

52.18 Miles biked today.

Rest Day in Carbondale, Illinois

Third Rest Day.

Rest days are welcome little oasises (or is the plural of oasis - oasi?) filled with nice lunches, trips to the bike shops for tweaks and repairs, laundry, and rest.

After a thousand miles it's time to switch the back tire up to front tire and vice versa.  Two days ago my Bike popped another spoke and Mike, departing for medical reasons, graciously offered to let me ride his touring bike.  Yesterday (54 Miles) went well so I took Mike's bike which I have christened "The Yeti" to the store to get it tuned and tweaked.

Lunch with four others and Gina at a nice Thai Restaurant.  Then laundry under Gina's exacting standards and perceptive nose for dirty things masquerading as clean. Hostel-cleaned-clothes are not Gina clean.  Barry did his best to ignore us pretending to be engrossed in a Sue Grafton crime novel.

Dinner with the group. We gave a toast to Iron Mike who departed this morning.  A nice group dinner where someone else is cooking and washing the dishes is a welcome treat.  Nice that Gina can finally put faces to names with this strange cross section of life that has found time to bike across the country.

Dixon Springs State Park, Illinois to Carbondale, Illinois

Started out a little early today by myself since I would like to see how Mike's bike works out for me.  Since we are in a new State I put up a sticker.

The bike is handling really well so I am hopeful this will work out for me.  I was on my own for almost twenty miles and then Norm and Christine caught up with me.  Norm asked how I was doing and I reported all was well.

Going up a hill two dogs set upon me and I tried to kick the bike in gear but threw my chain.  So I was left marooned but they were friendly and the worst I got was a nose in my crotch.

No real services until Goreville. At the top of One hill I came to a stop to rest my behind.  I was in a driveway and standing there when I heard a "Can I help you?"  A man emerged from his garage and offered to refill my water bottles.  We chatted for awhile, myself thankful for another act of kindness on the slow travel plan. He said bikers come by often and one time he found a man lying on his back on his lawn. "I asked him if he was ok and he said yes. I asked him if he needed anything and he said no.  Later he called an ambulance which came and got him."

Goreville

Got into Goreville and looked for a place for lunch.  Norm had texted earlier about an H&H Kitchen so I stopped by a man taking a picture of two girls decorating the Post Office for an upcoming State Championship game.  I asked him where H&H was and he pointed out the gas station down the the street.  "You're in luck," Mike Scott told me, "Today's meatloaf. We have people drive from all over come for the meatloaf."

H&H Fuel & Kitchen is a hidden little gem of a cafe in the back of a gas station. I came in and saw Norm and Christine.  Mr. Scott was there and we talked about the ride and his road trip through Colorado.

I had not even ordered and they came out with the meatloaf plate and sat me down. Mr. Scott came over and we chatted for about more and then he wished me happy travels and told me he picked up my lunch.

Yet another example of small town generosity and pride extended to cyclists, that makes this trip so unique.

The meatloaf was great comfort food.  John came in and joined me and we biked the rest of the route together.   I noticed that Gina's location was off on my phone, so I have great hopes that she may be in Carbondale.

Carbondale

Good ride with John to Carbondale except for one jarring experience.   The roads have been very light with traffic and green and lovely but the pavement conditions have sucked.  "The bucolic conditions of the road," John remarked wryly, "has been moderated by the road quality."

On one descent down a hill the road was so bad and bumpy that my phone dropped.  I came to a stop and walked back up the road but phone wasn't there. I walked back and forth on the side of the road multiple times peering through the shrubs and grasses without seeing it.

I had about given up when my watch tapped me for an incoming text which meant I was within Bluetooth distance.  I asked my watch to have my phone play music and found it down a ravine in thick underbrush five feet from the road.

John and I got into Carbondale and Gina called me as we were negotiating the busy roads and I found her in the parking lot. She flew into St Louis and rented a car to Carbondale.  Wonderful surprise.

Dinner tonight, John and I made steak fajitas and Gina made margaritas and strawberry shortcake.  Mike announced formally he was leaving the trip tomorrow.  Sad to lose another member.  A nice night introducing Gina to the group.

Marion, Kentucky to Dixon Springs State Park, Illinois

Amish Salvage Store.

We are firmly seconded in Amish Country.  Two days ago I came up close to a buggy but it turned one way at a fork and I another.

Today we made a recommended stop at the Amish Discount Grocery which sells salvaged, yes salvaged, food items ranging from fig newtons to cans of soup to candy.  While there, three serious Amish Women keep the shelves stocked and tidy.  Whenever I had a question they would answer quietly with the faintest Dutch accent.

The store outside boasts a place to tie your horse and buggy.

Crossing the Ohio River by ferry into Illinois.

Certainly a highlight of this unconventional trip across America given that if we're not flying past and over, we are whizzing by at 75 miles or faster on Interstate highways where the land, indeed city neighborhoods have been carved out to fit the road.

Biking, the land forms the road to fit to it.

So here since 1807, a Ferry has operated to take traffic between Illinois and Kentucky.  Along with we four bikers (Jim, Barry, John, and I) there were five cars and trucks.

Crossing a river like this reminds you of the power these major rivers had in shaping States, travel patterns, and the fortunes of towns.  The interstate highway system is a glorious thing, but it has diminished the terrain that meant something at some time.

One thousand miles into the trip and we say goodbye to Kentucky and cross the Ohio River by ferry to reach Cave in Rock, Illinois.

The town is Americana incarnate and celebrates its connection to the USBR (US Bike Route) 76.  Every corner has old painted bicycles on them so that you could give directions by telling people to turn left at the red bike.  The town's cafe has "Bikers Welcome" painted on the side, boasts signs for the nearby Coal Festival, and charges an improbable $4.20 for tea and a ham and cheese omelette.

Heading out of town we met Walt (Not as rich or as dead as Disney Walt) and his terrier Cooper.  Walt invited us to fill up water at his house. Seeing my Navy Jersey, which really has been a great conversation-starter while being here in places where people proudly serve, Walt and I shared Navy stories. He was, like Matias now, a CT but he was a CTM.

The kindness of people on this trip has been one of the things that make traveling like this special.  Cyclists tend not to be scary people, at least in general, so people find us more approachable.

Jenkins Bike Rest Area.

Biking and hiking each have developed their little subculture which sometimes they overlap.  One part is called Trail Magic which involves unexpected acts of kindness, charity, and consideration.

After a particularly nasty hill we stumbled at the crest to this lovely little lawn created into a bike rest area complete with water, charging stations, picnic table, whimsical gardens with gnomes and a friendly massive German Shepard named Hobo.  John, Barry, and I came upon it and there was Jim sitting there too.

It's supposed to be a short riding day today but it's hot and hilly so we've been grabbing these breaks as often as we can.

Dixon Springs State Park.

One large massive and long hill close to the end and I popped another spoke. It's the second spoke on this rear wheel so I am pretty disappointed.

Tomorrow is a relatively short day, 54 miles, to Carbondale so I accepted Mike's offer and we put my seat on his bike, adjusted the handlebars and switched out the pedals.

No shower facilities that are open so Bill, Barry and I were left to clean up next to a spigot with a hose attached.  Barry stripped completely, prompting John (I think) to remark that's the adventure part of the Adventure Cycling.  I soaped up in my biking out fit.  The water was incredibly cold.

Camping tonight.  Hammock for me though and I put up the bug net but no rain fly.

Utica, Kentucky to Marion, Kentucky

Late start because of another (sigh) rear wheel spoke issue.  Caught up with the group in Seabree.  Much happier to be biking closer to the group.  When I bike alone, particularly after starting out last, I get the idea that I am massively behind.

I met up with the group again in Dixon where there were no open stores on the route.  A pair of middle school girls on their bikes came and talked with us and told us that a Dollar General was up the road a bit.

We sat in the shade of the corner tree on the Courthouse lawn.  It was glorious.  Biking today, particularly in the sun, I routinely come across these lawns darkened in the shades of multiple trees and they call out slumber and relaxation more than any bed with cool Egyptian linen sheets.

Sitting on the lawn, in the shade, eating my banana and drinking water, cool water, and Gatorade.  There is a heaven in simple pleasures, but you have to work hard to get them and recognize them.

We biked on to Clay, Kentucky and searched out an open convenience store on Memorial Day since it was the last stop with services prior to Marion - twenty two miles away.

So far our sample size is only two - but hands down the people from Kentucky have been the most welcoming and friendly.

Two days ago, while biking 152 off route to carve out some time to get to Maker's Mark - a red pickup truck came up even with me.  The man rolled down the window and asked where I was from.  "Colorado," I answered, still biking.  "Welcome to Kentucky!" He shouted, waved and drove on.

Here in Clay we went into the store parched and eager for Gatorade. Jim (Akron, Retired, Wife Judy)  struck up a conversation with Mr. Higleys who had asked if we were heading to the Ferry today or tomorrow.  When Jim got up to the counter to pay, Mr. Higleys paid for Jim's Gatorade.

There is a redolent pleasure in drinking out-of-the-cooler Gatorade, sitting outside in the shade of the convenience store eaves, and having a sandwich.  One local dog was very interested so I gave him a portion of my sandwich.  I was chased by three dogs today, but one was so well fed that I had to encourage him to run faster.

Finally a real "Kentucky Girl" improbably dressed in neon yellow and the most blue - Krusty-the -Klown like hair I have seen on a living person (pictured, but sadly from the rear, came) up to us, camped out like loiterers at the convenience store and said, "Ha! Where y'all from?"  As typical we let Barry reply first and he said "Nottingham, UK" but I am positive she didn't understand a word of it, and said to him, "Now you have an accent."

A few thoughts from the route.  The mileage today has been elusive but in the end it was 71.5 miles.

Biking today mostly with Barry, John, and Lew - but Lew is struggling with his seat.  It's just excruciating for him so he is biking standing up or taking breaks.

My rear end hurt today, but yesterday it didn't.  So go figure.  Everyday it's a different thing.

Barry, I suspect, only goes slow for the company.  He easily can out-bike us.

John, had a multilevel back fusion three years ago, which, he said, explains why he walks slowly and gingerly.  However his biking is not affected too negatively and he just consistently pedals away grinding away the miles.

Going at the slower pace that we go we spot little things like this wonderful little old truck that hailed from the Martin Family Homestead in Fishtrap, Kentucky and the old General Store (which sadly was closed for good.)

Marion Kentucky

We finally reached Marion.  It's always an incredible feeling of anticipatory rest once we reach our destination and all we have to do is find our resting spot.  I was biking with Barry and I said to him, "I'll bet most Nottingham lads wish they said they got inside Marion."

One of the surprising things about the TransAmerica Bike Route is the variety of places to stay.  Churches have been a mainstay for our lodging because they can accommodate groups, they have kitchen facilities for us to cook in, and there is a shower.

We have stayed mostly in Methodist Churches, a welcome and comfortable stay each time, because of my membership with the Eaton United Methodist Church so it's like seeing how another group of people would set up their church.

It is a wonderful service and outreach by these groups, and we are both grateful and humble every time these wonderful historic buildings are given over to us.

We have reached a few milestones.  We passed the 1,000 mile mark and we are now a fourth done in terms of days.  Tonight is our last night in Kentucky.  We cross the Ohio River tomorrow by Ferry and head into Illinois.

Falls of Rough, Kentucky to Utica, Kentucky

Falls of Rough, Kentucky to Utica, Kentucky

I saw this quote on Facebook from Erik Skarr who is going to run a Marathon today:

"... We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing suffering produces endurance, and endurance character, and character hope." Romans 5:3-4

Good quote to keep in mind for this trip.

Setting out.  We expect it to rain about 1pm.  Saw these posters about burning trash here at the Lodge and it reminded me that after I had filled up my water bottles with the plastic bottles Grandmother Corrine told one of the family members not to put the empty plastic bottles in the trash. "I won't fill up the landfills with them," she explained, "I burn them."

Fordsville, Kentucky

At population 528 this town sports a little diner with a great dessert selection and nostalgic posters and black and white Formica floors.

Omelet, my first in more than three weeks, was excellent.  The eggs were muddled, partially mixed, just as I love them.

Nancy, the cook, was surprised I rarely see them cooked that way.

We are also running into Meth country as well, an unpleasant reminder of the obvious - rural America has its challenges as well.

And we are reminded why Trump easily carried Kentucky:

45 miles today.  So it's an early day as we rest about the Utica Volunteer Fire Department.  There's a Wedding Shower in the Hallway so we are hanging out in front, in folding chairs, or lying in the grass as I am.

We're doing laundry and using the shower so a nap is pretty nigh inevitable.

A man and his seat.

It has all the hallmarks of an abusive relationship.  Everything on the seat is a lie. Gel. Affinity Zone.  Comfort.  The first time I got on it I thought, it will take a while to break it in.  That was hubris.

It's breaking me in.

It's embarrassingly mind numbing all the creams, lubricants, and "butters" that are used to make this relationship between one's behind and the seat work.  Most of them have names that might as well be for sex.  DZ Nuts. Body Glide.  Bum Butter (Tested on Assholes not Animals).  Gooch Guard.

The amazing thing is that the seat height and angle can make all the difference.  But the seat wins every time.

After two weeks, it got to be more painful to get off the seat.  So hard to leave an abusive relationship.

Still it's just me and the seat and three thousand more miles to go.

One gentleman came over and invited us to the Memorial Day Service.  Norm, Tom, Christine, and I walked up to the Baptist Cemetery to attend the services.  It was a little note of small town Americana that is getting sung today and tomorrow at all of the little towns and cities across America.

Hogdenville, Kentucky to Falls of Rough, Kentucky

Sonora, Kentucky

Was told that Sonora, Kentucky had a place that served pie.  So I passed by the typical truck stop and convenience store combos on either side of the interchange where State Highway 84 crosses Interstate 65 and proceeded into town, past the park with crosses and flags commemorating Memorial Day and stumbled into the market.

It's a conglomerate of country store, used appliances and restaurant housed in an old grocery store building.  There is a canvas portrait of John Kennedy in the back corner.  The crowd is the kind replicated across small town America.  Good old boys and women talking weather, real estate, politics and agriculture.

Big Clifty, Kentucky

Lunch and a rest stop with Bill.

It's been, pleasantly, a hot sunny day. This after we had expected another soul-draining day of rain.   Found this peaceful cemetery and so we stopped there for lunch.

If they can rest here, so can I.

Nice lunch chatting with Bill who I don't see often enough on the road because usually he's far ahead of me.

Central Time Zone over there.  See you an hour ago!

I had lost sight of Bill for a while but a few miles into the new county and time zone I came upon a lone house and there was bill at the picnic table talking with five other people.  It was shady and I was hot so I pulled over.  Parched I asked for water, and one lady brought me around to the back and into her mother's house.

Grandmother Corrine was in her kitchen getting the Memorial Day BBQ ribs ready.  She had three cold bottles of water pulled out of her fridge for me and had me fill up my water bottles.

"Watch out," I told her, "there are others behind me."

Grandmother Corrine laughed and then offered me some of her homemade energy bars.  "I'm a diabetic," she explained, "So I have to make my own things."  Made of oatmeal, and fruit and apples they were just great.

Came back out and chatted with the family.  They come every Memorial Day weekend and this year they'll BBQ and play corn holer and run the ATVs and play with the dogs.  After a brief while we grew exponentially as Barry and John came by, and then Lew and Mike.

It was a wonderful little slice of afternoon with this family.

Fall of Rough

We all biked in before the rains started. I even got a quick glorious swim in the pool which was just what I needed after the hot humid day we had.

Funny thing looking back on today. I biked with everyone today. Tom in the late morning when I caught up with him. Then Jim, Norm, and Christine.   Then Bill to Grandmother Corrine's.  Then with Barry, John, Lew and even Mike.

We're staying indoors today split between three rooms at the Rough River State Park Lodge.  I'm sharing a room with John, Tom, and Chris (Guide).   Chris and I are on the floor.

The restaurant here serves wonderfully chilly and frosty margaritas which I had before dinner.  Dinner at the gazebo, a vegetarian chili, during a torrential downpour combined with gusting winds, lightning and thunder.  We hope it goes away tonight so that we can escape a day Cycling in the rain.