a Meltdown

June 29
Well, you knew it would eventually happen....I had a full bore, maximum amp, no holds barred meltdown after a hot, windy, hot, late day riding into Newton.  It was meant to be a 74 mile trip, (which is alot but not the maximum for this trip) that turned into 80 and believe me that additional 6 miles in 105* ( a new record high, by the way) and 32mph wind gusts from the south are not trivial.

So from about 2:30 until we finally arrived at 4:00, I cussed Kansas and swore that I was taking the next day off and then the following day I would be driving a U haul toward Pueblo because "I finally get what Kansas is trying to say" and "I've had enough of this.....stuff...." and "I'm.done.with.Kansas.heat.period". And I told Sam so on the way to dinner.  He calmly replied, "Let's try to get a good nights sleep, take tomorrow off and we'll talk about it." I knew what that meant.  


We did take the following day off and thoroughly enjoyed the hospitality and air conditioning and superb cooking and great conversation of our Warm Showers host, Ken.  Ken is also a cyclo-tourist, and has been for alot longer than either of us and although we were his first warm showers guests, he knew exactly what we needed.  He welcomed us into his cool, lovely home that is a mix of retro and minimalism that charmed me.  We ate, drank good wine, talked and talked, napped and ate more.  

Ken was there to see us off at 7am today with a promise that it was to be cooler (100*) and friendlier winds.  It was a late start and I didn't know where we'd end up but we were aimed for Sterling. We made it. Meltdown over; but there is a U haul dealer in Larned...I checked.

Flint Hills

June 27

"The Flint Hills were formed by the erosion of Permian-age limestones and shales. During the early part of the Permian Period (which lasted from about 286 to 245 million years ago) shallow seas covered much of the state, as they did during Pennsylvanian times. Unlike the Pennsylvanian  limestones to the east, however, many of the limestones in the Flint Hills contain numerous bands of chert, or flint. Because chert is much less soluble than the limestone around it, the weathering of the limestone has left behind a clayey soil full of cherty gravel. Most of the hilltops in this region are capped with this cherty gravel.

Because of the cherty soil, the land is better suited to ranching than farming. Because of this, the Flint Hills is still largely native prairie grassland, one of the last great preserves of tallgrass prairie in the country.

The tall grasses in this region are mostly big and little bluestem, switch grass, and Indian grass. Except along stream and river bottoms, trees are rare. The streams in the Flint Hills have cut deep precipitous channels. Streams cut in chert-bearing strata are narrow, boxlike channels, whereas those cut in weaker shales are wider, more gently sloping valleys."

http://www.kgs.ku.edu/Extension/Physio.html

Unexpected

June 26

Happy as I am to be out of Missouri, I must confess to missing one thing: the cooler temperatures.  Looking at the NOAA forecast for the next few towns/communities we'll be stopping in has been a pastime for me but I try to avoid it now.  Chiefly because the forecast gets more distressing.  Triple digit high temperatures are not my forte`.  I am a child of the less emphatic East.  If you want to see how bad it can be, just go to NOAA forecast page now and look at Larned, KS...see.

All this heat and drying south wind has shifted the daily schedule.  It is now something like this: rise at 4am and eat a little (too hot and sleepy for much), drink some coffee from the room provided pot or lounge....because now we are regularly checking into motels in small towns that are rated at $ or $$ because they: a. are cheap enough to be easy going about where bicycles go, b. the only way to get your brain cooled off after a day of heat and c. there isn't much market for luxury hotels in the middle of nowhere.  But, I digress.  Put on kit, cover all exposed skin with factor 50, load bike  and leave as close to 5am as possible.  Today we got out at 5:30, rode around town for a few minutes trying to get around a stopped train (2mile detour) and finally got on our way.  67 miles later, we pulled into Eureka.

Kansas between 5am and 10:30am is lovely, very lovely.  After that Kansas gets mean.  And it isn't even flat!  What a shock to find these gently rolling hills!  They aren't very scary and most can be conquered in the largest chainring....but still, they are there in a place that I expected to be flat.

Kansas. flat and hot

Kansas is flat and hot...at least so far.  We have made it to Pittsburg for a day off.  We could have moved on but we have to wait for a package that I ordered from REI.  It contains another mesh sided sleeveless jersey for me (too hot for anything more) and cycling sandals for Sam plus some caffeine enriched GU shots.  We launched this journey with a mind to wear out some gear and replace it if needed along the way and Sam's shoes are the first to truly go.  Truthfully, they were already worn out when we left but putting on a good front.

I have stolen some images from a group rider blog up ahead because he has more down time to play around with graphics than me....anyway, this is where we are:

Here is what lies ahead.  Let me say that I can hardly contain my anticipation of getting to the Rockies:

Now that we have left Missouri, I am in territory that I have never visited before and so from here on out is the reason I (speaking for myself) loaded my bike in a Grand Caravan nearly two months ago in the first place.  Most days is really just riding a bicycle and thinking about food and water but this really is the grandest adventure of my life.

Missouri, my dear, I tried real hard.

June 22
Well, I'm sorry.  First I tried to win Missouriacs with my southern charm and wit. Then I tried to just get used to the terse communication and horrid driving skills of the Missouriac...now that I am staged for my last day in Missouri, I must admit that its a loss.  I don't like the people who live in Missouri. Its that plain and simple.  Their state is beautiful, their protected waterways are exemplary, their hills are impressive and formidable without being ruthless, but the people ...

We entered Missouri  at about 5:30am by crossing a narrow two laned bridge across the Mississippi and it was glorious with promise and forbode (I knew the Ozarks lay ahead).  We were headed to Farmington on a Saturday.  By lunch time we were at the outskirts of Farmington having been harassed by heat and lousy driving and I was suspicious that it would not go well.

 Leaving Farmington with a little less optimism, we rode into the Ozarks National Scenic Riverway (http://www.nps.gov/ozar/index.htm) and I was pleasantly surprised with miles and miles of cobble bottom rivers.  Unfortunately, owing to the ongoing drought the waterways were dry or nearly dry.

Driving skills didn't improve over the next few days, but at least traffic thinned.  We took a day off at Powder Mill campground to enjoy the Current River and walked to Blue Spring.

Then rode past Alley Spring and Mill

There were many more springs, somewhere near 300, but there is a limit to how far off the route I will go to look at a hole in the ground with millions of gallons of water coming out, however cool that is. 

Yesterday we rode 94 miles to get to Marshfield.  I never thought I would attempt such a thing anywhere more hilly than Kansas but each intermediate town only offered tenting in the park (or courthouse lawn) with no water, no toilet, no privacy and the real possibility of being forced to play host to the LCG (local crazy guy) of which Missouri has a plentitude.  So we started riding about 6am and arrived at the Plaza motel in Marshfield about 6:30pm with 2 hours of breaks during the day.

Today was a  56 mile day to get to Running Spring Hunting Preserve & Inn where a guest house with shared full stocked kitchen, bathrooms and your own bed is $20 per person if you sleep on top of the bedspread ($50 if you get under the sheets).  Its an odd arrangement, especially considering you pay on the honor system into a big blue jar on top of the fridge.  But then Missouri is like that.

Tomorrow, we will make effort to arrive in Pittsburg Kansas and that will be the end of Missouri, unless they drive across the state line to pass too close, honk their horn, swerve toward me (from either lane), commit the 'right hook' (look it up).  It wouldn't surprise me if they did, Missouriacs are like that.

First impression of Missouri

I know people who are from Missouri, so I had high expectations. Unfortunately, they were dashed after only 0.5days in Missouri:  not impressed. 

Nonetheless, taking an extra day off in Farmington to deal with my own personal case of sun poisoning (both legs)...after that 7 days to Kansas where at least it will be flat.

Hello Illinois

June 10
At 7am we left the comfort and plush appointment of Sebree First Baptist Church’s newly upgraded teen center in the basement of the recently completed wing of the church.  It was decorated in a vaguely 50’s diner style with black and white checkerboard flooring, chrome high top tables with matching chrome and red naugahide bar stools and lots of table top games like pool, foosball, etc.  We had to get out early because there was rain expected by lunchtime and we had 43 miles to cover to get to Marion and the next in a series of church hostels.  Can I just say now that these folks are generous beyond reasonable expectation?  They fed us dinner of ham, carrots, two kinds of fruit, sweet potato fries and iced tea.  I wanted to adopt them.

Ferry across the Ohio River.
We opted not to swim.

We were warned that, despite the fact that our route would go through the county seat and another smaller town, nothing would be open on Sunday.  It was true. So we stumbled into Marion just at lunch time, grabbed our standby meal of Vienna Sausages (stop frowning and buy stock now, this is powering me across the US), chips, bottled tea and oat granola bar and headed to the market.  Looking at the ACA map, you can see that towns considered close enough to be ‘on or near the route’ are noted with their name, tax boundary and population.  It is through this information that I realized that a town must be at least 3000 head before I can expect to find Agave nectar in the sweetener section.  Agave nectar is my sweetener of choice because it tastes good, is sweeter than sugar (so it takes less to do the job) and, most importantly, has a low glycemic index (no sugar crash).  I use it in coffee and hot tea, on oat cakes…until a recent long stretch of ‘towns’ whose populations never got over 1500 and was far more often in the low middle hundreds.  You know you are in the literal middle of nowhere when the best place to buy food is Dollar General.  I’m serious, here.  Needless to say, my sweetener needs were going unmet.

Anyway, back on subject….so with marketing finished, we decided to head out of town and get on into Illinois.  Partly because Kentucky and I were just done with each other and partly because the Marion Hostel would be full of ACA sag supported cyclists.  These dozen folks paid $8000 each to have their absolute necessities carried for them and their whimsical desired met by a pair of hard working, long driving ACA staff.  Actually, today the ACA driver was going alone because this group is having a bit of a bad spell.  They’ve already lost one rider to the ‘I quit’s’ and we recently learned that their oldest rider (71) was found dead in the road by a group of stragglers.  The second ACA staff had to stay back with the remains. With all that in mind, they just didn’t seem like good company.

Fortunately, lunch helped immeasurably to restore our worn out legs and with the exception of one good sized hill, the terrain was cooperative.  As promised, all offerings by the Amish were temporarily expired so we passed Yoder’s Variety store without even looking. About 2:30 we rolled onto the ferry for a half mile trip across the Ohio River and into Illinois. Hurray! And, it hasn’t rained yet. 

Mammoth Cave side tour

June 5 

We left the official route in the afternoon at a point where we could cut a corner off.  An official junction has to be somewhere and being the ACA and stuck somewhat moldily in their dogma of adhering to the 1976 ‘bikecentennial’ route, we were expected to pass the Lincoln birthplace before turning south.  We ditched that plan as turning southwest beforehand saved 20 miles on a day that would be 60 miles already.  So we turned away from the route at Buffalo, KY…where do they get these names?... and rolled through hilly country in a somewhat cooling breeze.  Our passage was witnessed by numberless corn stalks, each an exact clone of the next, and mildly curious cows.

Our destination was Munfordville and we arrived at the Super 8 about 6:30p.  Actually, it was 5:30p because we crossed the central time zone and didn’t realize it.  The extra hour gave me time to get even more tired before bed with a walk to the Mexican restaurant a half mile away.  The check in clerk marveled at our stupidity/stubbornness/persistence and spent the better part of 15 minutes interviewing me in an attempt to fathom why anyone would leave the comfort of their home, on a bicycle, to ride through an endless succession of unincorporated hamlets in the hope of having their journey permanently halted by an ocean.  We talked about it.

Anyway, bright and early (well sorta early) we packed out of there headed for Rock Cabins, a quaint throwback to an era when people were physically smaller and when very small, detached motel rooms with the tiniest of water heaters was acceptable, even pleasant.  Sam and I would have enjoyed it more except for three things:

1.      1 Between us we have 8 panniers which almost need a room of their own.

2.      2 The buildings are situated at the corner of two roads.

3.       3A persistent cat who would not be deterred from sharing our access to a picnic table except that I am so very mean and intimidating.

Regardless of all that, the cabin was just 2 miles east of the park border and it would be a good place to leave said gear safely locked and ride unencumbered to Mammoth Cave proper to tour at leisure.

June 6

At 10:30a we, along with 78 unwelcome strangers and two tour guides, descended dozens of steps into the longest cave system in the world,  and walked 4.5 miles through what is now a very large tunnel but was once a large underground river. 

For the first mile, the tour was a little like walking around a big empty warehouse but after an underground lunch break ($8.50 in cash) we got into a section of tunnel that looked like pictures I’ve seen of desert canyons but with less light.  The passage walls got much, much closer and bulged out on both sides so that you sometimes had to fold your body like a hunched over “S” to pass through.  

Then the passage opened back up and we climbed up and over and down the other side of 4 underground mountains which must have been pretty spectacular waterfalls in their day.

 

The cave system is dry because it exists under a sandstone cap rock that effectively excludes water with the exception of one leak created when an enterprising and well meaning beaurocrat authorized drilling for electric lines which punctured the water proof seal and now there is a steady drip.  The water doesn’t run across the walking trail, though, it continues its downward journey toward the river styx.

Gypsum flowers open as calcium carbonate is exuded

 It was about this point that the unwelcome masses began to grumble.  The newness had worn off, they were ready for their fix of ‘next’.  That’s the problem with sharing your adventures/existence with Americans… we’re so pampered for entertainment that boredom is a close and constant companion.  I could be more sympathetic if it were born in quiet displeasure and desperation, but it almost never is. The Grand Avenue tour ends as it began, with steps.  These were up, which should have caused further gripe, but were met with nearly universally quickened pace and heightened chatter at the anticipation of the end of a 4 hour tour, a 4 hour tour.

Berea and beyond

June 1

We left Booneville under sun but within 10miles a comprehensive cloud cover had rolled in.  I was glad because my sunburned shoulder (just one from riding perpetually on the same side of the mountain) needed a break.  But I quickly got too much of a good thing as we stopped to wait out repeated cloudbursts of admirable intensity.  It seemed to take forever and when we finally arrived, I went straight to the coffee shop; as I so often do when coming to a new town.  Standing outside the so-very-trendy-coffee-house, drinking an eye-wateringly expensive ($6) double shot almond milk mocha a man stopped at the adjacent light, rolled down the passenger window and announced that he would trade the…how shall I say….vintage… Grateful Dead t-shirt off his back for Sam’s Steal Your Face cycling jersey.  He simply would not be dissuaded, regardless of how vehemently we swore that he would a) never get the stink out, b) not like the close fit, c) be able to buy a brand new one of his own. His wife, in the passenger seat, was clearly mortified as she took down the primal wear url.  Finishing our drink, I said, “Let’s get you to the motel before you get stripped.”

Berea was a little spread out for walking; and really, what is a day off from bicycling if you have to ride your bike to get around?  We visited the coffee house/café again, local Mexican restaurant, laundry (where I learned of Doc Watson’s death), health food store, Post Office (thank you Travis), Wal-Mart (which I only go to as a last resort because of that sexual discrimination thing) and the ‘old town’ art galleries and logged about 5 miles of walking. I tried to like it but it was just too spread out to really appreciate so when the next riding day came, I was ready.  Besides, we were promised rolling hills and I wanted to see how my mountain legs would stand up to the rollers.

After the holiday weekend, the temperatures dropped as predicted and anticipated.  It was a nice ride from Berea to Harrodsburg (enter town limits and proceeds directly to the coffee house).   I’m liking what another cyclist calls “hilltains” since they’re bigger than plain hills but too small to be mountains.  Also, the clouds rolled in, were pushed in really, by a strong but inconsistent west wind.  I knew to expect headwind traveling west but I was saving that experience for Kansas and Colorado. 

And it was cold, too. The high on June 1^st was 68*….I am not lying.  Put that with 11-15 mph headwind without sun and you have two tired and chilly cyclists.  We decided to break our 50 mile ride to Bardstown (home of Bourbon distillery tours) into two days and camped in Lincoln Homestead State Park which is really just a state owned golf course that happens to have some old buildings of national historic ‘value’/interest on the edge of its grounds…and a picnic pavilion suitable for tired and slightly desperate travelers with relatively low standards.

Out of Coal Country

May 30

Eastern Kentucky was once the swampy border of an inland sea that produced a lot of vegetation.  Then, some time past and the sea level changed and the swamp vegetation died and got compressed and some other temperature/pressure alchemy transpired to produce heaps of lovely coal.  You know the rest of this story…coal fueled a multinational industrial revolution, caused moths to change wing color and generally made a mess for a long time…still does, and all that lovely coal gets dug out and loaded onto rail cars or big trucks 24 hours a day.

Today Eastern Kentucky is a lovely but slightly unnerving place to bicycle.  The terrain has been described as looking like a dried apple, all bumpy and it is most definitely hilly.  Looking at the satellite view of google maps, you can see that no one gets through without doing some climbing.  Also, no one gets through without riding with the coal rigs.  Unless, that is, you are willing to ride all the way through coal country on a long holiday weekend.  We were.  So instead of roads full of coal trucks making their way along the very narrow valleys to distant…somethings….we had the opportunity to take full inventory of the vast population of above ground pools.  There were many, of all descriptions and all were occupied as the mercury repeatedly reached for 90* with success with heat indeces even higher.

But temperatures be damned, we were getting out of coal country while the truck drivers were grilling dogs and floating.  After interviewing several locals, it was determined that Booneville was the place to be on Monday night.  That meant two days at or near 50 miles and one 25er regardless of terrain, weather, time...everything.  Conveniently, this coincided with the distances between lodging or sanctioned camping.  Believe me when I say that East Kentucky is not the place to be caught stealth camping on someone’s property. 

So, on Monday afternoon, we were at Booneville. Along with five other cyclists who had the same determination or possibly more ambition.  We are officially out of coal country and have been promised rolling hills through picturesque farmland…after a day off in Berea.