Backed off the throttle to seventy miles.

       I have never ever been in the physical shape I am in now.  Sixty-five is only a number.  Sure, I am slowing up but I am pushing the mind and body to perform at maximum efficiency.  Up hill for hours on end, down shifting down to the granny gear and cranking away then  flying down the hill at thirty-seven mph in gear thirty.  It is a great feeling.  Yesterday, I rode through a flooded road; no way was I back tracking to an alternate route.  Everyday I start off slow, listening to the country side around me and then the crank it up to put on the miles.

      After sleeping by a swimming pool under a roofed in patio, I bolted out of there by 8:00 am.  The wind at my back, I was pushing seventeen mph, averaging fourteen and a half.  Monroeville was a breeze twenty-six miles down the road from Zanesville. By mile seventy I was in Defiance, Ohio. 

      What is it about cities that makes it so hard to find a place to stay?   At the local bike shop, I tried Warmershowers, churches, Defiance College, the police and the local park.  Nothing was coming through.  The bike shop owner's wife thought the fire department might be a possibility.  She showed me the way whereupon I rode into the fire station and pleaded my case.  The lieutenant would be back in thirty minutes so the men showed me into the living area where the A/C worked its charm.  Aaron, the Lieutenant on duty, showed up and gave me the thumbs up for the night. The men really like the fact that I had covered 3700 miles in 76 days.  I had the stories as well.  So here I am, hanging my helmet in the Defiance fire department; living precariously and thriving on it.

A century plus one mile.

         Leavng Royal Center, the wind was at my back.  By noon I had clock on fifty-six miles.  Am hour off in Lagro, another dying small town, I decided to see what was in my energy reserves.   The humidity was down so I began knocking off the miles, watching the corn and soybean crops fly by.  Seventies, eighties, nineties, I stopped with one mile to go to fill up my water bottles.  Let"s not rush things. Over the top and one mile to grow on.  I rolled into Zanesville and stopped at the only market.  Thinking I had another twenty-six miles to before I could land a decent place to crash, I fueled up with a pizza, classic coke, Vitamin drink and an ice cream sandwich ( I can stuff your face with anything I want and not have to worry about the fat grams in the slightest.) the store owner  that an English biker had come through four hours early and was headed for Monroeville. Off hand she also mentioned a warmshowers person two houses down.  Bingo, I called the person and here I am by his pool with a cold beer. I could have shattered my personal best but the arms and the feet were feeling the stress of a long day.  There is a long way to go, why over do it.  

     No music today, just listened to the sounds of nature around me.  All the roads were small county roads where a cars are a novelty. A good day once again.  Tomorrow, I will cross into Ohio.

Heading east on the northern Tier route

       Sixty two miles from Odell to Iroquois, beautiful countryside on small back roads.  A wrong turn and heat in the high eighties frustrated me up a bit but the day went smoothly.  A huge windmill farm of at least one hundred units spread over several miles throughout the corn and soybean fields. The juxtaposition between two was interesting.  Birds chirping, clear sky, numerous farms and passing trains made for a pleasant day, heat aside. 

       Rolling into Itoquois, Illinois was a welcome relief from the heat. The town has a small community building part of which is set up to accommodate long distance cyclists.  Bed, shower, A/C and cold bottled water does the trick.  A small nowhere town has its act together.

     Riding due east on the northern Tier beats the northward path of Route 66.  Mile for mile I am closing the gap between me and the Atlantic.  Tomorrow I will cross over into Indiana, my ninth state, my seventy-fourth day. Go team!

Another day, another nowhere small town

       Weaving my way through narrow country roads was the route for the day.  I crossed the stateline into Indiana.  Mile upon mile of corn and soybean fields with occasion farm houses and barns dotting the landscape.  Birds chirping, tiny frogs hopping across the road and the sound of my spinning tires.  Rolling along in this idyllic setting is mesmerizing; a good setting for some meaningful poetry.

     As I stopped at a bike path leading into Royal Center, my odometer read sixty-four miles and the temperature was in the high eighties.  I took the path and drifted into a shell of a former prosperous town.  The automotive industry had moved out,  leaving this small to suffer a slow death.  This fair trade world we live in is doing nothing for small town America.   The big multinational companies win, the little guys get thrown to the curb.

         I stopped at what looked like the only prosperous place in town, the town bank.  Asking the receptionist where there was a place to stay for the night, the bank manager stepped up to the plate and offered his place.  Everywhere I ride, the people are friendly, trusting and always willing to help. This is the second time in two days I have been offered a place to stay by a well dressed respectable stranger. 

      Jess Robinson left work to take me to his home and get me set up.  After work he told me that the church across the street is having  a free dinner at 6pm.  Everyday brings with it a new adventure.

A serendipitous day

     After leaving the Jackson's house, I headed off to see former college president Minor Myers' statue at Illinois Wesleyan.  Our family knew him through my sister when he was a professor at Connecticut College. Outstanding statue of a man in stride, books in one arm and a violin in the other.  

      Next stop, the Normal post office where my new route maps from Adventure Cycling awaited me.  After studying the maps over a cup of joe, I followed Route 66 north out of town.  Nice road but no shoulder.  99% of the drivers were considerate but two drivers deliberately passed too close, expletive deleted. It can be nerve racking but all part of the ride.  My horizontally expended orange flag has been a life saver, literally.             

     A restaurant in Chinoa caught my eye where am older gentleman, Jim Raymond, and I met and head lunch together.  He snagged the check and paid for lunch, no warning.  Next, the waitress, Mindy, learning that I was headed for her home town of Odell, had me check in with her father at the local bank when I arrived. She said her father would set me up at the local park and pool.  Jim Rebholz was expecting me at the bank.  In showing me  to the pool and park which he manages, he took mercy on my sweaty tiired soul  and offered his home as a place for me to stay.  A hot shower. a cold beer and A/C  did the trick.  Connie and Jim Redholz cooked me a sumptuous dinner after which we indulged ourselves at Dairy Queen.

      Two acts of kindness by two complete strangers in quick succession along with all the other acts of kindness throughout this trip affirms my belief that someone is keeping an eye out for me.

Bicyclists helping bicyclist.

      This morning Karl rode with me for fourteen miles getting me safely out of Springfield.  Great guy. 

        Route 66 has few cars and trucks and plenty of charm.  Each town is focused on the route, having kept a lot of the old vintage stuff intact.  The Palm Cafe in Atlanta, Illinois was a time warp.  Obviously the place was gussied up a bit but pretty much the genuine article.

      After lunch  I am cruising down the road, no traffic, wind at my back and having a very pleasant ride. Up ahead, "ROAD CLOSED".  Only for cars I hope.  No way, there is NO bridge with a new one under construction. Now what, I am not riding back five miles and have to suffer a busy four lane highway. Ah yes, train tracks parallel the road snd the train bridge is intact.The tracks are in good shape but appear not to be used tinfrequentlt. Sure enough as I am pushing the bike along,eight feet from the tracks, a train whistle starts blowing followed by a locomotive with ten cars barreling down the tracks  The earth is shaking as I sheepish look up and wave.  Kind of a surreal scene and definitely something I will remember. I push my bike up to the trestle bridge and navigate the old ties of any older bridge next to the new bridge.  No way was I getting up on the new tracks. The old ties were sturdy with the exception of two or three.  So if I fell l through, it was only thirty feet into a deep slow moving river.  I tunnel focused  on the ties, one at a time, trying not to think about the hairy situation I had put myself. Once safely over the bridge, I walk into a road crossing the tracks.  With photos of the event, I high tailed it out of there before the railroad cops show up.  Good adventure, my second railroad story in two days.  I think I am slowly going native or getting more into the wild side of being on the road alone for so long.  Not that I mind either, I am  out of the envelope and relishing it.

      The rails to trails seem to be everywhere.  Bloomington has one which brought me to the outskirts of town.  Using my app, another Warmshowers couple took me in and feed me a gourmet dinner avec red wine, IPAs and  ice cream with chocolate sauce.  Bruce and Sarah Jackson took me in like family, therapy for the traveler. 

   Tomorrow I check out Illinois Wesleyan College and pick up my new Adventure Cycling maps in Normal.  I may make it to the northern tier route.

       

Lincoln's hometown

       Slept in until 8:00am!  Pancakes with maple syrup, royal treatment all around. Christine and Karl Kohlrus have laid out the red carpet.  So many Warmshowers people have opened their homes to me.  I hope I can be as good a host when bicyclists knock on my door.  No less, Karl is riding with me out of Springfield to make certain I get onto the right Route 66 (there are three versions depending on the year).

       With the bike unloaded of all its heavy gear, Karl and I rode downtown. First stop, Lincoln's tomb, second stop, the railroad station where the funeral train arrived and third, the Lincoln museum.  This museum is one impressive place.  Three hours allowed me to see only part of the museum but what I took in was well worth the day off. As for Springfield, it has a nice feel even if the Illinois government is in political gridlock.  

      Topping off the day, Christine, Karl and dined at their yacht club on the shore of a large man made lake.  Nice place.  Just over a day with these folks and we are friends.  My house is their house.

       My batteries are at capacity and tomorrow I am off to Bloomington/Normal, Illinois.  I checked out a large wall map of the U.S. and I am amazed as to how far I have traveled.  Slow and steady, step by step, averaging over fifty miles a day has gotten me to where I am.  I pinch myself periodically, "Am I really riding across this huge country?" 

Route 66

          Today was all about riding Route 66.  Great road, few motorized vehicles but a few quirks along the way.  Example given: first you are on the road, then it abruptly ends at a T in the road.  In my determined way, I saw cars passing just beyond a corn field and trudged myself and my bike through high grass adjourning the corn field to get to the road. "Oh %#*!, railroad tracks and a barbed wire fence confronted

me before I could access the road. For a moment or two my bike got hung up on between the tracks; my adrenaline kicked in and I bent the tracks apart with my bare hands.. Sure I did.  Next came the barb wire fence.  Is this really happening?  What am I, twenty years old?  I found a damaged portion of the fence where, after removing my panniers, I finessed my bike 

through the opening being careful not to snag me or the bike on the barb wire. And cars were passing by taking in this scene.  Alas, I finally found the route again, only to lose the road three more times.  Asking local folks for directions only made matters worse. Nice people in Illinois but give good directions is not their strong suit.

      One last rail to trail of twenty miles brought me to Springfield, home of Lincoln.  Warmershowers.com came through for me again. A member, who has toured 162,000 miles since the seventies, is legally blind, met me at Panera Bread.  Karl has one functional eye, glasses as thick a coke bottles and rides eleven miles to work everyday. In 2011, he rode the southern tier across the country.  I am impressed.  We took a serpentine route through Springfield where he showed  me the capital, the old state capital, Lincoln's home, his law office and his library.  Though I took a day off in St Louis, I am taking off another one to visit the Lincoln sites.  Karl though I should take the time,  I will be staying  at his abode  tonight.  His wife and he  took me to a great restaurant last night, another one is planned tonight and, of course, i squeezed in a visit to a local brewery on my ride to Karl's house yesterday,  

       I slept until eight this morning, luxury!

East of the Mississippi

      Yesterday I rode forty -six miles from Les Peres to the St. Louis Arch and back, no need to repeat it.  Kelly Sleeper realized ithat when it came to navigating St Louis, I was directionally challenged.  He loaded me up and drove over to the rails to trails just beyond East St. Louis.  East St. Louis is no place to be night or day and getting from the Mississippi shoreline trail through East Saint Louis could be a bit shaky.  No one gets up there until the   afternoon but why trouble trouble..  The maze of trails surrounding Edwardsville proved its worth. Lousy trail markers led me in several directions until a sympathetic soul guided me to the trails to rails path leading to Staunton.  Prior to this act of kindness, a couple of boneheads only made matters worse by sending me even further off course. If apprehended, they are spend time in a Russian Gulag.

        Get your kicks on Route 66.  I merged into this landmark road at Stauton and rode to Litchfield where I dined at Ariston's, a famous Route 66 restaurant. Arriving in my bicycle cloths caught everyone's attention and learning that I was traveling the transcontinental, they had me sign their guest book.  Good for the ego and the meal was superb.  Feeling stuffed, I rode down route 16 to a city park with new facilities, rivaling any state or federal park.  The camp office directed me to the new horse camping grounds where I dodged the horse exhausted and set up camp. I had the place to myself and the hot shower refreshed my tired body.  I

   Today it is more of 66 as I close in on Normal, Illinois to pick up my Adventure Cycling maps which will lead me to the Northern Tier route and beyond.  I am thinking about the Atlantic but I can't smell it yet.

Through the arch, over the "Big Muddy"

        A day of rest, I guess.  Kelly Sleeper and I rode 46 miles down to the Arch and back through a path only a person with a life time of local knowledge could follow.  At 6'5" on a bike fitting his long frame, he keep me hustling to keep up.  His techniques of gracefully navigating over curbs was impressive.  In both directions we stop first for breakfast and later for beer and a light afternoon meal.  The arch with the Mississippi as a backdrop was well worth the trip.  Kelly, as an excellent photographer, contorted himself in various positions to snap some good pictures of me under the arch.  I was impressed.  

      Tomorrow Kelly will drive me down to the bike path leading me cross the Mississippi.  From there I ride to Staunton, Illinois to connect with the Route 66 trail.  New maps from the Adventure Cycling Association are being sent to Normal, Illinois, general delivery.

Following an established route again will be a relief.  Now for the ride east of the Mississippi.  

A day off the trail

     The body and mind need a day off especially after yesterday's close encounter.   For several days I have tried to find the right place to spend a day relaxing. Through the help of another Warmshowers host, I am taking both today and tomorrow off to give my body and mind some R&R.   Today rather than putting myself in "Park", I bicycled to downtown  Webster Groves, Washington University and to a local bike shop.  With the help of Scott Melies, who I stayed with last night, I was able to configure a new route based on existing Adventuring Cycling Association routes.  With so far to go, I don't need the stress of not knowing which roads are suitable for bicycling.  Here is the new route: head north east on the Route 66 trail and merge with the Northern Tier route in central Illinois.  Dropping down from Erie, Pa., on the Underground railroad route to Pittsburgh, I  will hook onto the GAP rails to trails path ending in Cumberland, Maryland.  The C&O path will take me to Arlington, Virginia followed by and unknown route through the Eastern Shore and Delaware to the Atlantic.  I order the maps this morning and am having them mailed general delivery to Normal, Illinois.  One major uncertainty solved.

       Kelly Sleeper (my Warmshowers host) tonight and tomorrow) and I are riding to the arch in downtown St. Louis tomorrow.  Round trip should be around thirty-eight miles without  panniers.  As a  experienced long distance cyclist, he has enlightened me about brakes, gears, tire pressure, gear settings, pannier weight distribution and traveling tips.  He is an objective individual who can sort through the bikes and parts on the market and make the correct choice given one's biking style and needs.  Buying the "very best" isn't necessarily the best for you.

       After a much needed nap, we dined at a local brewery, my treat, great IPA.

       

Not all days are good ones

          What I thought would be an easy day turned out not to be.  I was off at a good time, 7:22,  but nothing but a power bar for engine fuel.. With each little railway station, I was hoping for a place to eat.  No such luck.  As I approach St. Charles famished, the skies grew darker, the thunder approached and the skies opened up. Thinking I was very close to St. Charles, I stepped on it but the thunder, lighting and rain ramped up so quickly that I found myself under a tall highway overpass soaked to the bone.  After the banging an crashing subsided, I rode the last mile feeling cold, tired and starved.  The only place open was this huge casino.  I was so chilled that I had to put on my fleece pullover when the A/C greeted me at the door. The place was a refrigerator.  I found a good place for breakfast and ate enough to feed two.  

      St Charles was not the place to be so I had to backtrack cross the Missouri River and head for St. Louis.  Goggle map directions were pathetic along with everyone else's.  Since entering Missouri, people's directions have been poor to terrible.  I rode an extra ten miles and found myself on a four lane road with no shoulder with early rush hour traffic. As I was bearing right at a light, a woman hit my extended flag and scared the hell out of me.  I caught up to her at the next light a gave her an attitude adjustment including a slam on her engine hood with my gloved hand.  She had just hit me and was indignate that I was giving her a what for.  I pulled over at the next safe turn off, we had a verb exchange and she called the cops.  She grazed me hard enough to put a mark on her shiny black finish.  I found that the impact had  broken one of the plastic ties holding my caution flag to my rear pannier rack.  Like New London, three squad cars showed up.  The officers listened to both

our accounts.  It didn't take much thinking for the police to realize that I was in the right.  Slamming her hood perhaps wasn't the best move but I made my point. Listening to her carry on was pathetic.  According to Missouri law, I owned the whole lane and it is up to the overtaking vehicle to safely pass me. Many people think bicycles shouldn't be on the road. Get a grip.  Anyways, being a bit shakened I diverted to a less traveled road to get to Cedar Groves where my father grew up.  I stopped at a very nice park thinking I just could handle anymore miles.  My cell phone was dead and I just wanted to find a seclude spot to pitch my tent.  It was illegal to camp even though I knew I could pull it off.  Nevertheless, I dug deep and rode to a nearby Wendy's to recharge my phone and grab something to eat.  Warmshowers.com was my only option and St. Louis was loaded with members.  Call after call went to voice mail, not an encouraging sign. Finally I was rescue when a member answered the phone and drove down to pick me up.

He took me back to a beautiful home which he and his wife had recently built. Scot and Babette treated me like a royalty.  A very nice bedroom and bath, almost too nice for this road weary guy.  They laid out a superb dinner including great local beer.  Scott went online and helped me map my route to Webster Groves as well as my route over the Mississippi and beyond.  This routing  including maps and written instructions.  These people are good people.  My house is their house.   

     Tomorrow, I will check out Webster Groves and hopefully find the houses My father and grandmother lived in.  

Monotonous beauty

      Jefferson City was a bust when it came to accommodations so I recrossed the Missouri via this really cool bike lane with a switchback structure leading up to the bridge.  Back on the trail, Tebbits was  ten miles down the road. As advertised there was a funky self serve hostel where I took the key off the side telephone pole and let myself in. An interesting guy from South Carolina was sacked out after a long ride. He bought is bike for $50 and uses square five gallon plastic containers for panniers.  We had a good time hashing over our life routes bringing us to the same hostel on the same day.   

      This morning was a slow start at 8:15 accompanied by plenty of rain. The trail softened up enough to slow me down by a few mphs.  I slogged along mile after mile.  The trail is beautiful but a bit monotonous. Some good tunes made the miles slip effortlessly by..  Running low on food, the search for a cafe intensified until I was about to knaw my arm off. The trail has all these nowhere farm villages, quaint but nothing for touring bicyclists.  Finally finally on the verge of bonking ( running out of energy), i found a nice cafe where I had a hugely caloric lunch, a double cheese burger with onion rings, a cold IPA and an ice cream sandwich.

   Back on the trail twenty miles down the road, Augusta had a bike shop with great ice cream and a brewery next door. How good is that.  Note that each of these little villages shows up out of nowhere when I emerge from the tree tunnel surrounding the trail.  Each town has a simple but very nice restored roofed train stop.  The town  name is in bold print as you emerge from the trail.  The small and numerous train stops, bridges, and tunnels surrounded by a virtual temperate rain forest with the mighty Missouri River to my immediate right makes for  a very pleasant ride.

       The bike shop directed me three miles down the road to  state camp site where I am ensconced in my tent writing this blog and waiting for an imminent thunder shower. Tomorrow will probably be the last day on the trail before I reach St. Louis and cross "the Big Muddy".

Lewis and Clark view of the Missouri

       Missouri definitely has a ways to go before the state can be called truly bicycle friendly to us transcontinental cyclists.  The KATY trail is magnificent but not much in the way of support in the passing towns.

       Hot and sweaty, the Y came through with a good shower facility. I schlepped a mile up hill to Harley park to find a good camping site.  Not a thrilling prospect given the heat.  Woove my way through the park to the end where a camping site was supposedly located. WOW!  The Missouri River below me with a view twenty miles either way.  The only flat spot was at the very top of a viewing knoll with a cement slab to step up onto for the grand view.  I have seen a lot of spectacular views but this one ranks in the top ten.  My tent took the tiny flat spot next to the slab with the tent opening facing the breeze.  A billion dollar view and I claimed it for night. Even with the breeze the heat kept my body on the edge.  A/C corrupts, real men don't need

Four wheel drive or A/C.

         I shagged out of Boonville at 6:30am and took in nature by the Missouri River for thirty miles. I found a micro general store with IPA on tap.  How good does that get in 10:15 in the morning.  Last night I had a bottle of IPA in one hand and. Draft of IPA  in the other; it was tough putting down my left hand to eat my salad. The same for this morning. A draft, a cup of coffee, a muffin and a snickers to supper charge the system for the next 25 miles. Headphones on, good tunes rocking, I ramped up the speed, brushed the weekend cyclists aside and flew..  Good tunes and smooth sailing, I arrived in Jefferson City by 12:15.  Found a bike shop in front of the capital building.  First things first, the owner took a look at my sweaty form and offered my a beer straight off.  Two beers, two new inner tubes and no luck with accommodations, I head for an Irish pub for a good salad. The town of Rebbit(sp) has a Hostel and is ten miles down the trail, where i am off to crash for the night.   A good day on the trail and more to come.   Get off the couch and start training.

 

On the Katy Trail

      6:09 departure, found the Katy trail two miles down the road.  Hard packed gravel with gradual grades, no more than five percent. The tree canopies, bridges, tunnels, former train stations and country settings all added up to a very pleasant ride.  Eighty miles in the heat was a little much but I wanted to reach Boontown.  Whereupon I had my third flat,  what a production fixing it.  I had a shower at the YMCA and will be camping in scenic city park.  The heat may be an issue but no other options were available.  I leave the motels for married couples.  I see single woman doing the camping scene but very few married woman.  It must be a security or creature comfort thing.  As a road warrior, I like the adventure of ferreting out a place to stay when I arrive at my destination; ciity parks, hostels, Warmshowers.com, churches, firehouses, and private homes whatever.

       Now that I am off the TransAmerica route, I am becoming more independent in choosing my routes and destinations. The uncertainty puts me a little more on the edge but I kind of thrive on it.  The Katy trail is over 265 miles so I will take me several days to complete it.  I hope the gravel doesn't beat up my tires too badly.  I expect flats but they are pain to fix.

A/C for camping would sell

       The heat situation has been dictating  the hours I ride but now the sleeping hours are getting factored into the equation.  I pitched my tent late but no matter,  I slept miserably all night.  The tent traps the heat and makes sleeping difficult.  Great weight reduction program.  So now what?  Numerous cyclists I have met have had luck staying at local fire departments.  So I went to the Clinton station and sounded them out.  They are working on it, going through the channels but in the meanwhile I am out of the heat and having dinner with them tonight.  Good bunch of guys, very friendly and their station Dalmation, Blaze, is good at  making off with anything you leave around.  

        The 70 mile ride from El Dorado to Clinton was a roller coaster, countless hills and valleys packed closely together.  The roads I traveled were small well maintained secondary roads with little traffic.  Farm houses were at the top of every hill with an occasional unleashed dog.  The landscape of hilly wooded farms, corn crops and green grass was perfect for bicycling.  The tranquility was nice.

       Whatever the sleeping arrangements, I begin the KATY trail tomorrow. No traffic will be nice.

My home is where I lay my head

       So it was only 79 degrees when I left Girard.  Mary and Larry went south on route 7, I headed off the trail towards Clinton, Missouri.  A little anxiety about heading off on my own without an official map but I researched the new route to be somewhat sure of where I am going. Crossed into Missouri, my seventh state,

and made it 70 miles to El Dorado, Mo.

The grade on the hills has increase but I hope I can make it to Clinton and dodge the Ozark mountains.  Upon arriving in town I begin my usual investigation of were to stay, shower, eat, and have a cold beer. The town community center was temporarily closed but they made an an exception for me seeing that I was a  cross country rider.  There is a nice park nearby which will do the job for the overnight.  Every town has their city park and usually they are very nice and amenable to camping.  As the summer heat rises, camping becomes less attraction but anything not stay in a motel.  The older couples general wimp out and go this route. They miss all the fun and adventure.

     El Dorado is setting up for their annual town fair. I may take it in tonight or just  crash early so I can make it to Clinton early tomorrow.  It is amazing how many of these sleeping little towns are peppered around the country.  

Out raced a storm

       Hot? You kidding me? 83 degrees at 6:15 am.  Mary, Larry and I hightailed it out of Chanute to Girard 50 miles away. The storm behind us as we left was the same one that hit Hutchinson with a tornado. Great!  We saw it creeping up on us and cranked up the revolutions.  The rumbling got louder and just as we arrived in Girard, the lightning started up.

      With the oppressive heat, no way was I about to camp. Nowhere to hang our hat, I began calling the churches.  The Methodist church came to our rescue. Open frig policy, mac and cheese, bible study, everything but a bed.  Sleeping bags and camping mattress on the floor but nothing new. 

    I am leaving the TransAmerica route tomorrow to avoid the Ozark mountains

and eastern Kentucky. 115 miles to Clinton, Missouri where the KATY rail to trail begins, another twist to a great adventure.

This country is beautiful

       Another sixty-six miles, hit the trail at 6:20, the heat cranked up  by 10:30 but the country roads we rode down were out of a fairy tale.  Mile after mile of rolling hills with crops of corn, green pastures, wooded areas and no cars or trucks.  From day to day, the landscape changes but not the quality.  America is huge, diverse and sensationally beautiful.  Each day I bicycle for hours surrounded by the most amazing landscape.

      Mary and Larry Wright have been with me for three days.  We arrived in Chanute today as the heat soared into the nineties.  I found a warmshowers just out of town in a very nice neighborhood.  Got my laundry done, had a superb dinner and will be sleeping in nice bedroom with own bath. These folks know how to do it.  Breakfast is being laid out with food for the road.  Life is good.

        Tomorrow will be my last day on the Transsmerica.  From Girard I had north for 115 miles to connect with the KATY rails to trail path.   I have researched the route, let's hope for the best.

Ninety two miles in one day with a headwind

       One small town after another but at least the distances between them were manageable.  Larned was to short a ride so I went the distance to get to Sterling. My new Brooks saddle stubbornly refuses to break in so you can imagine how my derrière feels after a slog of ninety two miles.  Every muscle in my body is feeling the abuse.  

      Sterling has a really upscale park, lake, pool and shower facilities.  I died and went to heaven when I hopped in the hot shower.  The last four towns had only cold or Luke cold water.  Tonight I will sleep like I am dead.

        The ride today consisted of gentle rolling hills lined with farms growing corn and milo.  It would have been more enjoyable if it weren't for mild but persistent headwind.  I stopped several times to rest the body and somehow managed to nurse myself into Sterling.  The town has real done a nice job on their Main Street, someone has it right unlike the other small towns. Perhaps Stering College has attracted a well educated group of people who have some culture.  The Sterling Cafe of  seventy years was delicious and will be revisited tomorrow morning for breakfast.  

My house on wheels is set up in the park and I am head straight for the land of nod.

Kansas has hills

     I was out of the blocks by 6:40 to beat the heat, though I could have stayed at the Newton Bike shop for at least another day.  Great place where they know how to care for cyclists.

    Seventy-six miles to Eureka, nineteen of which was into the wind.  The hills started gradually yesterday and came into full bloom today.  No serious climbs just up and down all day with miles of green grass and intermittent trees.  The temperature climbed into the high nineties and became insufferable during the last fifteen miles to Eureka.  I drank over seven liters of water.  In Eureka, a woman (Robyn Harvey) offers her entire house to cyclists, loads the frig with food, cooks dinner for us...truly amazing.  I have been coming across these type of people my entire trip.  Are you listening New England?

     The Newton Bike Shop washed and cleaned my bike.  They installed aero bars onto my existing bars.  They extend forward about a foot slopping up at a thirty degree angle.  My forearms rest on pads and my hands hold the end of the bars.  It solves the hand numbing problem and enables me to lift myself off the seat to rest the sit bone.  I just tweaked the bars to allow for more clearance for lower bar hand positions. 

         Another hot day tomorrow is forecast so I am aiming for a 6:15am departure. Chanute is sixty miles away.  Arriving before the blow torch afternoon begins would be nice.  

     

Tent location, tent location, tent location

   Sterling, Kansas, worth a visit, someone has it together there.  The park was adjacent to the pool and shower as were the railroad tracks.  I checked the tracks; OK they are in use but Sterling  is too nice to have much train traffic.  NOT!  My tent was in a sheltered spot twenty feet from the tracks, another cyclist was ten feet.  Around 3:00 am the train whistles began to wail, the ground started shaking. Bolt upright, three engines and a mile long of freight cars came rumbling by at a low speed, thank Jesus!  The other guy set his tent at night and damn need "soiled" himself when the monster decended upon him.  Good story for the grand children someday.

     Ninety-two miles to Sterling wasted my legs so the next sixty to Newton, into the wind, was a test of will.  I stopped at a cemetery for lunch and had

morbid thoughts.  I pushed on, mile by mile, cranking away, enjoying the rolling expanses of Kansas.  Thankfully

my zen mindset pushed me to my final destination of Newton.  Thorough my trip I have heard of the Newton bike shop/hostel/free beer on tap/ work on your own bike and more.  Some local bicyclists led me to the Mecca of bike shops.  The owner came out of the shop, took my bike from me and told me "you are bike drunk.  There's you bed, have draft of beer, chill out.  Oh, here's the key to the place. If anyone bikers show up, give us a call".  I drifted around the bike shop totally mind numb, watched a Netflix movie, went next door for Pizza and passed out for eight. This place is amazing.  James, the owner, and his sidekick, Mike have a totally equipped hostel and bike shop.  I am getting a full tune up and the addition of aero bars for more comfort. 

     I nuked my Brooks saddle with leather conditioner from the underside.  My butt was screaming for mercy.  The seat is finally mellowing out.  After 155 miles in two days, me, myself and I unanimously vote in a day off.  Two-thirds of Kansa is behind me, GO TEAM HUMPHREVILLE.

Chilling in La Crosse

After seven days on the road topped off by a tough thirty-eight mile ride into an oppressive headwind, I decided The Hump needed a down day to recharge.  Slept late, 7:30, picked up some Joe and pastries, stock up on road food and found some black thread to sow my riding shorts.  One among several strikes against Kansas, IPA is non existent and the food is very basic and not so good. For someone who has a high tolerance for mediocre food, these small towns are verging on food poisoning.  

       Waking up in a beautiful park was a treat.  The town gets a star for that alone.  One light pole even has an electrical outlet, how bizarre. Other good features of the town, the library is made of this yellow limestone and built by Howard Barnard, a big education advocate for the area a century ago.  The barb wire museum, adjacent to the park, was interesting but not that interesting.  On the whole the town has it together as far as a small Kansas town can get it together.

      Two young bikers, Chris and Dylan from Orlando, just blew into town and are set up next to my tent.  A little company is a nice thing given that I feel like an alien in La Crosse.

     I am off to the pool for a swim. Rain is likely tomorrow but the wind will be dialed down a bit. Onward!

Where are the prevailing winds?

       The wind really blows in Kansas and today i was riding headlong into it. Like climbing the rockies, it was one mile at a time for almost forty miles.  A couple from North Kimgstown, Rhode Island rolled into Ness City yesterday when I did, so it was like old home week.  We met up again on the road. Riding together was psychological support for final push into Rush Center.  We had lunch together and they headed off for another thirty miles. I headed north four miles to La Crosse.  Nice town and for a change the public swimming pool showers were modern and well taken care of. Beggars can't be choosy but these towns who have hundreds of cyclists passing through should get their act together. As far as towns go both Ness City and La Crosse have a nice layout with some historic buildings and well kept parks.  La Crosse's park  is fairly big and full of huge Cottonwoods. I am camped smack in the middle, right underneath the largest tree.  I am counting on no thunder storms.  Ness City had brick roads on there two intersecting main roads, an unusually nice touch for a small town.  Small town after small town, it is hard to keep them straigjht.

        The route change was planned for today but route 4 is reported to be very dangerous so I am back on 96 until I can find a safe route to the Katy trail.  

        Kansas: flat, fairly boring landscape and numerous small towns dotting the whole state.  More of the same tomorrow.

Nowheresville to nowheresville

        Nothing but flat farmland and giant silos. Sixty miles with a vicious crosswind combined by the back wash from on coming trucks, hauling combines and grain, made for a strenuous day.  Kansas has about as must visual interest as a blank piece of paper. 

       One local rancher asked, " Why do you cyclists bicycle ride across the country?"

Good question. One, there is the challenge of accomplishing something physically and mentally demanding; two, it is a wonderful way to experience our country, both the landscape and the people. And three, it is a excellent way to be alone and think. Withdrawing from the daily grind clears the mind and enables me to look at life from a different perspective.  The rancher appeared satisfied with my answer and my passion.

      Tomorrow the wind is predicted to be from the east to northeast.  It could be a slow grind to my next stop.  Terrific!

Down off the mountains, up with the heat

      The local park where I camped was nice with all the surrounding farms and rolling hills; however, the fireworks display put me front and center for most of the night.  Where the official display ended, the unofficial fireworks began.  I slept lightly as the explosions carried on into the earlier hours of the morning.  

       With another hot day over ninety degrees predicted, I shoved off by 8:15.  The wind picked up but was at my starboard rear quarter for most of the way.  Averaging over fifteen mph I breezed into Scott City just after high noon, 49 miles.  Nothing much to see on the way other than huge cooperative silos and endless expanses of wheat fields. I found the one and only restaurant in town serving up a pretty decent Sunday buffet for all of $8.50, extra for the lemonade.  Even wearing my bicycle cloths, I seemed to be reasonably well attired given how others were dressed.   It is appalling how slovenly people look out here and the obesity is rampant.   In all fairness, there were quite a few respectably dressed people there.   

       Just as I was about to head for the local park, which I heard was nice, I checked my Warmshowers app and was surprised to find someone listed.  Dean answered the phone and gave me the high sign to come over.  Thank the travel gods for a place to stay indoors. I walked out onto the street and was blasted  by a wall of heat.  It was ninety-seven degrees!   Summer is here on the Great Plains of Kansas.

       It was nice to be in A/C where I could do my laundry and chill out, so to speak.  With a route changed coming up in a few days, I had a chance to research it online.  The Eastern Kentucky meth/wild dog problem is the main reason for the course change but the summer heat is another reason.  

      Dean and I ate well at a local Mexican restaurant with beer glasses as wide as my thighs.  Now for some serious rack time and an early start.

        

          

Where are the prevailing winds?

     All the bikes heading west have complained about the headwinds in Kansas. Over the past few days the winds have been hitting me broadside with a little push depending  on the curves in the road. Now that I am in Kansas, I am praying for a tail wind.  Cruising at 20 mph is what every cyclist hopes for.

     The huge flat expanses of green pasture and farm land are giving way to golden wheat fields.  The cooperative silos are in ever nowhere town and with the winter wheat harvest underway, the trucks laden with wheat are everywhere.

As I am bicycling along on the shoulder of the road, these trucks and other vehicles always move over to the on coming lane, giving me plenty of room.  

In other states, this consideration was more often the exception than the rule. 

      Bicycling along on these endlessly straight roads is hard to describe.  Music playing, legs cranking, eyes scanning both the road in front of me and the expansive landscape around me.  I am one with my rearview mirror looking for any vehicles coming up on me. Minutes turn into hours, the odometer 

logs in the miles and I am in the zone.  I dodge small tortoises, eye an occasional  snake sunning itself in the center of the road and watch for any other hazards along the way.

    Upon my arrive in Tribune, the first order of business was to find a convenience store to buy a Gatorade type drink and sit back to figure out the layout of the town. As requested, I stopped off at the sheriff's office to notify them that I am camping in the part.  The clerk gave me directions to the town pool, (which was mobbed due to the ninety-five degree heat), and gave me the lowdown on the evenings fireworks next to my campsite.  I am generally toast by 9:30 but that is when the festivities begin. I'm thrilled.

       I will check for sprinklers when I set my tent up to avoid the peppering of my tent by a sprinkler as happened to me around three in the morning last night.  I stayed dry but the sound jarred me out of deep sleep.  

        In two days I will be heading north to connect with the Katy trail which begins in Missouri. The trail is a network of rail to trail paths which supposedly are excellent for cycling.  I will download the necessary maps at the library at my next stop.

      Onward!

        

Elite class of long distance cyclists

      From the onset of the journey, I have met dozens of cyclists doing exactly what I am doing.  We are reasonably fearless, go anywhere, sleep anywhere, independent free spirit individuals.  All of us are out of the status quo comfort zone.  A few young single women, a few older couples but most of us are single

men free to be on the edge.  No comfy inns or motels, no fancy restaurants, we buy our food at the grocery store, take showers (warm or cold) when we can.    We love it, we are out here in the mountains or on the plains doing what we need to do to push forward to our goal.  We don't want the packaged tour or ocean cruise. 

        70 miles to Eads across flat endlessly flat straight roads with the sun burning down on me.  I drink a resevoir every day.   I blew through several one blink dying towns, managed to get a flat just outside of Hazwell and found a cold shower at the local town pool in Eads. At dinner  I met this guy, thirty-four, who picked up a $50 bike and hit the road to see every state, a real bohemian cyclists. He clocked in 128 miles today, truly an amazing guy.  I thought I had energy; this guy is on nitro.

      I am camped in a park thirty feet away from the local police department.

In looking for a place to charge my phone, I rang the police department door bell.  An officer, one of four, gave me the door code to the fire department next door so I cold plug up.  Both the police and fire department are responsible for an area 80 miles by 30 miles.  They are on call this weekend, the police station won't open until 12:30.  On the average, they get about four calls a day.  Things are pretty laid back here. Everyone says hi, they trust you and are always willing to help you; we should be so lucky.  

        Tomorrow I head for Tribune, Kansas where the black flies are waiting.  My bug spray is a life saver; nevertheless, I have plenty of bites.

       I hope the park sprinklers don't go on near my tent. I have heard some funny stories about cyclists setting up their tents on top of them; makes for an interesting night's sleep!

       

Flat terrain for a change

      Leaving Pueblo did not break my heart. Other than the historic downtown and nice museum, the place did not impress me.  Apparently, the legalization of pot has brought in a lot of homeless people into the city which is the reason the city park is no longer available for camping.  Tony gave me a good overview of the place but I don't need to revisit the place.

      I got an early start, 7:35, and clocked on fifty-seven miles before 1:00 pm.  Not bad. Nothing much to look at but endless expanses of farm land.  Normally I lift myself off the seat on the downhills to give my sit (sp) bone a rest.  There were almost no downhills and little rest for the seat.  Kansas will be "interesting"; I have been fine tuning alternate ways to rest my derrière.   

      In Ordway, where I am now, there is a    New Zealand woman, Gillian, who opens her house up to cyclists.  Interesting place: chickens (including a noisy rooster), bees, horses, dogs, goats, old trailers for lodging and a nice house where the bathroom and living room are located.  She required fifteen minutes of work so I help her take down a cyclone fence.  

     Derek and Nigel  Pell mysteriously reappeared after they took another route a week ago.  Looks like they got short end of the stick.  Young guys ( the rabbit), the older guy, me ( the tortoise) cross paths in pokie Ordway. Anyways, we are hitting the downtown scene, if there is one, for a couple of cold brews and dinner in some form.  They cook, I go out or get take out.  Age has its privileges.  

     Tomorrow, who knows how far my bike will take me.

   

No accommodations for cyclists.

        Hot, hot, hot out on the road, I poured down over a gallon of water on my way to PuebloI.  The city is flat and endless, no one seemed to know where the historic district was located.  I spent several hours looking for somewhere to stay.  The city may have bike paths but it is woefully lacking of places to stay.  Muttering an expletive as I walked out of a cafe, a guy about my age stopped to ask if I were lost or if I need help..  He had seen me in my bright bicycle clothes cruising around city trying to get my city legs.  Explaining in disgusted my frustration of not finding a place to stay, Tony Ballejos said "you can stay with me".  Tony is mostly Arapaho and hispanic He took me to his brother's house in a nice neighborhood of small well groomed houses.  When I though I was escaping Puebo, Tony salvaged the day.  No problem in me spending another night. He walks ten or miles a day, so we will be hoofing the town, checking out the sites, historic places, etc.. His brother, Michael,

gave me a tiny crucifix, belonging to her mother, wishing me a safe trip.  He is the third person to pray for my safe passage.  Amazing, how people out her have extended a help hand.

     Tomorrow, I am eastern bound.