Today: 70.8 miles – AVG Speed 17.5MPH - Top Speed 34.5MPH
Total 2,507.88

It was a curious night tossing and turning on what was essentially an indoor sun-lounger, but hey, at least it was indoors. We had another late start this morning, Annie and Eric rustled up the coffee and superb eggs. They simply put some cheddar cheese in the scramble mix and voila! we have superb eggs. Why I’ve been microwaving them with milk for the last 10 years is beyond me. But you live and learn.

We hit the road and the first 15 miles were as hilly as our previous days, but then, just as we hit a big climb I looked at Kevin and said “What if this is some kind of early continental divide?” and when we reached the summit and surveyed the land on the other side it was far flatter than we had been tackling for the past week. I felt like some kind of spandex-clad soothsayer. We were finally leaving The Ozarks behind and entering the mid-west prairies. The change was dramatic, after just 10 minutes we saw our first cacti and had a real feeling that we were finally headed west. 

We stopped for lunch at Cooky’s Café in Golden City and the bleak town defied the optimistic name, but we had been hearing about Cooky’s and their famous pies since Farmington we were itching to get in and throw some baked goods down our necks. It took me a short while to get my order in as the server wouldn't stop remarking on my Australian accent, but we managed to have a conversation and get the order heard with the help of my travelling translators. I just wanted some pie, for goodness sakes. Anyway, once the order was dispatched, delicious food devoured and the bill paid we exited stage left to hit the road once more. And hit it we did, the tailwind had us going at approx. 22MPH for 35 Miles, this was a beautiful feeling, at this rate we were, in no time, in Kansas.

Kansas has been on my mind more than any other state since the beginning of the trip. For a start, it’s in the middle. It is flat. There is nothing. The opposite of everything I have experienced and have yet to. It is bicycling purgatory. And for these reasons it also holds some mystique. What does nothing look like, exactly.

We have holed up at a Super 8 Motel for two nights as we are having a post mountain rest day, but with that rest day, talk has begun of a potential 200-mile day. Incredibly tough considering our baggage, but with a tailwind, it is possibly achievable. Although, this idea has been planted with the assistance of Busch lager. Having said that, the lager is only 3.2.% in accordance with Kansas law, so inebriation is no excuse.

Today: 69 Miles (+ honourable 8*) – AVG Speed 12.8MPH – Top Speed - 38.7MPH
Total: 2,437.16

Watermelon is not a breakfast. Even if your day consists only of burping, snoring and going to the toilet it is still scant nutrition. We finally stopped for a big boys snack two hours into the ride at a bistro called Jays Nest in Marshfield and it was the best little restaurant I’d come across so far. A very quirky country/blues café that doubled as a vintage store, it was almost like hanging out in Shoreditch, except the plaid shirts and stetsons weren't worn ironically and I didn't hear the word gorgeous once. The place had soul, good grub and made a great difference from my recent ventures to chain fast food restaurants. I hope for more of these hidden diamonds as time goes on, but we'll see.

We arrived at our destination of Ash Grove after another day’s working and negotiating Missouri’s multiple and infinite hills expecting another perfectly acceptable night under a park pavilion. After we’d used the communal showers we began thinking about the evening’s plans when police officer pulled up, exited his vehicle and began his purposeful walk towards our group. He reached into his pocket before pulling out a key on a green key chain before asking: “Y’all wanna stay in the house tonight?” whilst pointing at the white building behind him. “It’s got beds, toilets and cooking facilities”

Do we want to stay in a house for nothing? Of course we do, mate. It certainly beats sleeping on a splinter-ridden bench swatting cockroaches away from my particulars, even if that was my idea of fantasy sleeping quarters just 24 hours a go. What can I say, we humans are fickle.

This kind of co-operation from the law is becoming increasingly frequent now I’m on a more well-travelled route on my maps, but still, to have a house to stay in for free offered by the local authorities was a wonderful gesture. I am now typing after a grand Mexican feast and currently listening to the multi-talented Miss Annie Long play Arcade Fire on a long forgotten out-of-tune piano. There’s something very soothing about the errors in the instrument’s response to her fingers and it’s acting as a sweet lullaby to me and my housemate’s ears. How distant this kind of interaction seemed a few days ago. On the flipside, Eric is attempting to throw some cheap, spiced rum down my gullet “for a laugh”. A paradox if ever I’ve known one.

*The odometer shut down for approximately 8 miles today. 

Today 44.2 Miles  -AVG Speed 12.6MPH – Top Speed 33.4MPH
Total 2,368.26

It was a wee bit chilly this morning, but that’s what you get when you retire for the night on a bench in your sleeping bag. Still, whilst there is some kind of overhead shelter I shall continue to reject sleeping in my tent. It’s like a scientifically sealed chamber of bacteria and new species in there, and I’m keen to avoid dwelling in it for as long as possible.

We set off for breakfast and I was desperately looking forward to some bacon and eggs, when half a mile in I had another wobble. I looked down at my front tyre and released an extraordinary flurry of expletives and sexual slang words that would have been enough to make a drunken, sociopathic docker walk away in disgust. Another flat. That’s four in three days. I was particularly annoyed as we had planned to take the morning off today in order to frolic in a river, and over the past few days I’d learnt that these guys would hang around for me and I despised the thought of ruining their day. Well, we went to Walmart where I threw a petulant hissy fit before taking stock after Eric and the crew simply laughed at me. Quite right, too. Perspective was called for. When Betty was all fixed up with not just new tubes but a new tyre too, we set off to the river and frolic we did. We found those little fish that nibble at your fit, swam around in the glorious sunshine and clear water, and Eric and Liz indulged in a cliff jump and a spot of fishing. Quite a lot of activities for a couple of hours, but it felt like a good break after the climbing of yesterday.

At about 2:30 we set off for a short 40 mile burst to Hartsville. But after 10 miles, get this: Another puncture. Rage gave way to disbelief as this was now the rear tyre, entirely unrelated to the previous deflations both in air and mood. Eric hung back with me and we fixed it, I tried to send him on, but he was having none of it "Save yourself!" I wailed, whilst dramatically throwing my arms in the air, but Eric stood by me like a highly paid lawyer to his odious criminal client. Well, we set off again, but after 10 minutes we heard hissing. Same tyre and it was probably our fault, but incredulity reined. The laughing off becoming less and less frequent at this stage and that goes for both of us. 

Eventually we sorted ourselves out before the remaining 25 miles or so to Hartsville and now we're here we can relax. It’s a great view. Another pavilion, more outdoor napping (for free) and what’s best, a communal dinner. We’re like an on tour kibbutz and I’m revelling in this camaraderie.

I expect, hellish tyre issues aside, we can put in some good miles tomorrow as we descend the Ozarks making our way towards Kansas. And hopefully find a bike shop for some armadillo style tank tyres. 

Today 79.9 Miles - AVG Speed – 12.2MPH - Top Speed – 42.4MPH
Total: 2,324.24

We awoke in a park and tonight I sleep in a park, it's all gone a bit Wombles. 

We were going by 9, but first, I needed to locate a nut and bolt for my shoddy right pannier. I screwed it in with the help of the hardware store-owner and also added some new grips to Betty. And by grips, I mean piping insulation foam wrapped in Duck Tape. It’s a wonderful trick that has helped my cack wrist and also my street cred. Probably. What definitely improved my credibility within the group was the new US flag that bellowed with pride from Betty’s rear. What can I say, I just love Freedom.

There was some very tough climbing in the heat today, this was made more difficult by the fresh tarmac that became lodged in the grooves of our tyres and made each push uphill feel as difficult as trying to stuff a condom full of jelly through a keyhole. The antidote to this tiresome ride, however, came in the form of the spectacular scenery. This is often difficult to appreciate when the inside of your legs are aflame, but today we stopped from time to time and took in the views around us. The Ozark mountain range in Missouri rivals any of those I was privileged to spend time in earlier in the trip. They don’t have the same dramatic cliff faces or iconic angles as the Adirondacks and Green Mountains up north, but there is an understated majesty to this region that I find immensely beautiful.

We decided on a quick stop with 23 miles remaining in the quiet town of Summerville where I enthusiastically inhaled watermelon, an apple and a jug of Gatorade. This combination felt more like a hit of amphetamines and a packet skittles to my parched body and they set a firecracker off in my legs. I pedalled furiously and before I knew it I was on my own. A soloist once again. All was going swimmingly until, with the town of Houston in sight I began to wobble again. Another flat tyre. The frustration was festering under my skin and coming dangerously close to seeping through my pores. That’s 3 in 2 days, and it seems the tarmac was culpable. Well, Eric and Josh soon appeared around the bend and assisted me as they had done twice previously. What a burden I’m becoming.

For the duration of the evening we have settled in the aforementioned park pavilion with two Texan Brothers as additional players in this strange game. You wait for one mate then eight come along at once. Kind of like buses, but more personable and better for the environment.

Today 63 Miles - Avg Speed 12.4MPH – Top Speed 40.7MPH
Total: 2,244.35

I’VE MET PEOPLE! Other human cyclists who I have latched on to like a junkie barnacle on an opium glazed rock. I’ve played it well cool, though, so don’t worry.

I was skyping with some very good chums back home when they first burst through the door at Al’s Place, which wasn’t ideal as I couldn’t immediately greet them with my undivided attention, but I pretty much just turned the computer off to talk to Annie and Liz. I don’t need my old friends now, anyway, they can’t really do anything for me out here. 

After some time, Kevin, Eric and Jeanne arrived, too. That made six of us. Eric, Kevin and I, but especially Eric and I, got to know one another the good old fashioned British way over a beer, which turned into several beers which turned into dribbling. And we (I) were suffering this morning. With a headache and a curious sense of regret we took our time, had a late breakfast and shot off at about 1pm.

Then, as we were about to depart we met another soloist named Josh from Washington DC who’ll be with us for a while. Things started frustratingly with 2 flat tyres in the space of an hour for me, but we got Betty up and running again, I could then focus on riding once more. The topography was great today, Missouri’s rolling hills in the Ozark Mountains are beautiful, there are some climbs to contend with, but it’s very much up and down at regular intervals so momentum can carry you most of the way. What could, arguably, slow me down is entering into the tradition of Sarpe (a Costa Rican term that almost means “one for the road”). Eric and Kevin like to, on average, stop with approximately 15 miles to go, have a couple of cans of beer and then have a third rolling into the final town of the day. It’s illegal, dangerous and truly refreshing. Also, we’re told the alcohol neutralises the lactic acid, so actually, its very useful. Plus, what’s better than a cold beer after 60 miles of cycling?

We’ve now arrived at a pavilion in a local park and the place has the atmosphere of a small festival. 9 cyclists, on hammocks, with a cool breeze and some exceedingly good pizza and I’m just setting up my bed on a bench. Bloody hippies.

In essence, I’m hanging on to these guys for dear life as I laughed like a drain today, admittedly it was at most of my own jokes, but they were good to be fair. Ask Eric, he was giggling a lot, the grizzly sycophant.

Today 95.3 Miles - AVG 13.1MPH - Top Speed 36.4MPH
Total: 2,181.29

Today was the hardest of the trip so far. I know that’s some statement coming from the man who seemed to be despairing at the feet of Death on Day 7, but alas, it is true. And it’s all Missouri’s fault. I had naively, and with no qualification, assumed Missouri would be a flat state, or at least low-lying as it bled into the open expanses of Kansas, but it just ain’t true. It’s seriously lumpy, so tonight I’ve studied the elevation (as I have as busy a social life here as a hedonist on secondment in Riyadh) estimated approximately 5,500ft of climbing over the 90 miles today. That combined with efforts from previous days would’ve been hard enough, but it was really the heat that clinched it. It hit 95 Fahrenheit (35 Celsius) today with very little cloud cover and at one stage, on a climb in Missouri I nearly lost it. Luckily there was a restaurant nearby where I sat under a tap for 5 minutes. It was a good lesson in ensuring I have enough water on me in the future and taking respite in the shade whenever I can. Ironically, I was warned about these very problems this morning when I met Henry, a fellow cyclist, coming from the west. Well, now I’ll take heed.

Just before I crossed the bridge over to Missouri I had a spot of lunch in Chester, Illinois where I discovered E.C. Seger, creator of Popeye, had hailed from. What I couldn’t quite believe was how important it was to the town. In fact, you could say it meant everything. Images of the spinach-chomping sailor were everywhere. In restaurants, on flags, murals and even a statue right next to the bridge. It’s the first thing you’d see when entering Illinois from this bridge. Before the sign for Illinois itself, even. Well, full-up on a burger and extreme sentimentality I made my way over the United States’ most famous river into Missouri, and the land was flat for the first 10 miles. Then we all know what happened.

Knees creaking and severely shattered from the blistering sun  - and I can see on my wrist why they say “blistering”. I knew tonight I would be staying in Al’s Place Hostel, which exists specifically for cyclists on this route. I didn’t know anything about it other than that, and I needed a code from the police to get in, which I procured over the phone. Well, when I arrived it transpired it was located within the old jail house. A wonderfully historic building on the corner of a busy street, but the interior surpassed even that. A huge living space that is perfectly clean and has all the necessities for a travelling cyclist. It’s so nice here, that I’m going to take tomorrow off for recovery. That and the hope I may meet a fellow cyclist tomorrow night. Stranger things have happened.

Top Speed 40.5MPH AVG 12.7
Total 2,087.6

So I awoke with a spring in my step today. Oh wait, sorry, I meant spring sticking into my spleen from my bed today. The Bates Motel outdid itself with that additional extra. Actually, I awoke with a bit of a hangover. After listening to what seemed like the sound effects CD from a cop drama for the evening, I had a knock at the door. Spooky, I know. So I put on some clothing and opened to find Jim, the motel resident, wanting to have a few beers. I think he was lonely, bless him, so I accepted and probably had a couple too many so this morning I was just a little groggy. All that boozing combined with very little to eat yesterday and some hard days behind me made this morning very tough indeed. I struggled gainfully for a couple of hours, although my face must’ve looked like that of a serial self-flagellator attempting to squeeze out one more thrill before nap-time.

After some high-sugar treats and liquid refreshment I felt something like the old/new me and a short while later I stopped for lunch in the small town of Goreville, Illinois and yet again ran in to some fine people. As I was finishing up I began talking with Pete, the owner of Delaney’s. He was an interesting guy and he told me about the area and his time teaching at Southern Illinois University, but just then, as three Harley Davidson attired motorcyclists were leaving (it must some kind of law that if they ride the bikes, they wear the clothes), Pete informed me that one of the group, Greg, had paid for my lunch. I hadn’t even conversed with old Greg, but Pete had told them what I was up to and bingo, so I corralled Greg, perhaps a little aggressively, to say thanks and get a snap. On top of this, the restaurant offered free desert to cyclists. It turns out that many cyclists stop in the restaurant as its pretty much the only place in a 60 mile diameter on the route maps, and because of this they were very accommodating to our like. I even had my polaroid taken and put under a glass table with images of fellow cyclists from yesterday and yesteryear, and I do believe that's the first time I've ever been immortalised. Well, barring fire or theft, of course.

Full and ready to go once again I made my way to Murphysboro Lake Park some 35 miles way and rode through some truly beautiful territory of grand lakes and forested roads. I have now arrived at the campground and the sights are breath-taking. These are the views I cherish on this trip, especially after a long and arduous day. What I don't cherish are my old friends, the mosquitos.  Oh yes, they are back.

Today: 101.3 Miles - Avg 13.4MPH  - Top Speed 32.2MPH
Total: 1,986.58

Tonight I reside in Cave-in-Rock, Illinois. What a bizarre name that is, I hear you cry. Well, I guess it was named after a cave that is, self evidently, in a rock. Of course, in hindsight this is an axiomatic name that is a bit like calling a place Water-in-Pond, but we're in America now, so NO QUESTIONS. 

Crossing the border into Illinois from Kentucky required a brief ferry crossing. Fantastic, I thought, what a great chance to stare out at the ripples wistfully for a few minutes. Perhaps I’ll be inspired to compose an opera in my head. But as I traversed the winding hills to the port the heavens opened. Well, again I thought I’d stay in a motel. There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to that misery of camping in a storm, and if that seems a little weak, then let’s say it’s for safety’s sake. My tent could act as a lightening rod for these electrical storms for goodness sake. But mainly, as you well know, it's because I’m weak.

On the short crossing across the states I spoke to a very nice chap and his family who were wedged in their vehicle and looking terribly comfy. They could probably see the goosebumps appearing on my exposed inner thigh, and as a random act of kindness they offered me a warm space in the back seat of their family vehicle as the ferry negotiated its way across the Ohio River, but I declined, as I didn’t want to dampen his lovely cream leather upholstered interior. What can I say, I just respect hide. Despite the bitter conditions, talking with this gent helped take my mind off of the cold rain for a short while, as did the small dog that was acting as what can only be described as a travel neck pillow between my new mate and the drivers seat. It was snuggly curled around his shoulders and despite the scene striking me as a little odd, I remained stum, as both man and beast seemed satisfied with the arrangement. This event did inspire me to possibly ask Betty to lay around my neck later, but she’d only think of it as a come on. Not surprising really, not after all we’ve been through, anyway.

Talking of dogs, today had two close encounters and not for the first time. I had been warned of “man’s best friend” having a propensity for being “cyclist’s worst enemy” before I departed my native shores, but I took it with a pinch of salt. Well, let me tell you, these animals are vicious. Even after passing their territory the little bastards often don’t relent for a good thirty meters, which isn’t so bad when it’s downhill and the dog is a Chihuahua, but a little harder at the tail end of a days riding when it’s uphill and the animal in question is a Pitbull. Both of these happened today. I shit-a-brick with the latter, but it’s amazing how you'll find reserves of energy when your flesh is in danger of being torn off by the mouth of an animal that has been, in essence, bred for killing. Not to mention the two other little indeterminable breeds that went for about fifty meters and forced me to plummet into a sewer earlier in the day. I’m hoping this game of dodge-the-canine will be over soon. Perhaps now I’m entering snake country they’ll be a different kind of obstacle for a spandex adorned twerp like myself to deal with.

After I left that nice family on the ferry and cycled the further mile to my residence for the evening I was left somewhat, well, scared. I immediately assumed the motel was closed due to its beyond repair appearance. Imagine the Bates Motel but real. Plus, the owner wanted $60 for it according to her crude hand-written note in the office. I called her with the help of Jim, a permanent resident at The Motel and got her down to $50. But even that seems steep considering the advertised microwave and wi-fi don’t exist at all. Oh well, I’ll shut this laptop off in a minute and hope for…

…That sounded like gun shots. Brilliant. I’ve paid for the bed and I’m going to sleep under it. Sweet Dreams.

Today 91 miles - Avg13.9MPH - Top Speed - 38.5MPH
Total: 1,884.9

So I spent Independence Day evening watching Independence Day the film. What a load of old tosh, that is. I was all geared up for some patriotism by proxy, but felt terribly let down in the end. Seriously, Bill Pullman as president? Will Smith as a world-leading fighter pilot by his mid twenties and Randy Quaid as a deluded psychotic who thinks people are out to get him? Oh, wait.

Anyway, time waits for no movie critic, so with some sleep and a pizza behind me I made way back into the wilderness for another day on my willing mule. I was flying up and down hills all morning and felt like my fitness had come on immeasurably since day one. Now I know that sounds like a boast, but this past month of relentless riding has improved my endurance more than you can imagine. I completed 90 odd miles today without a problem. This was but a pipe dream one month ago when I struggled on a 30 mile test ride in England. Today it was reality.

I only had a quick break, and this was in the town of Hawesville where I stopped at Irby’s Restaurant. I loved the interior of the place. It was a vast room, which didn’t lend itself to intimacy, but it felt like a Wild West saloon. The booths and design had real charm, and I couldn’t help but think that a place like this would charge £3.50 for a coffee in London (England, not Ohio). After I finished my BBQ pulled pork sandwich I stepped out to be on my way, only to notice the tail end of a concert being held by what I later discovered was a local pastor outside the courthouse (you can see, but mainly hear it below). The whole thing was being filmed by local news, and - from across the street – me. It was the most overt display of patriotism I'd witnessed since I arrived in the US thus far. Of course, it is July 4th weekend, so no surprises, but wow. I have to say that this was the first time I have felt intimidated by this kind of allegiance-to-the-flag outpouring of emotion since I arrived. I’m never comfortable around it at the best of times as I happen to think its rather dangerous, but I felt today that if, hypothetically, anyone were to voice an opinion on the contrary to that of the majority in regards to America’s incontrovertible greatness then the repercussions would be very harsh. There's something very systematic yet blindly bombastic about all of this and it just made me want to get on my bike and pedal, I'm sorry to say.

That pedalling has brought me to Owensboro, Kentucky tonight and to another motel. Yes, I know it’s not very naturalistic of me, but its going to storm again, and I think Deep Impact may be on. That’s worth the $50 alone.

Today: 55.73 AVG Speed 12.3 - Top Speed 30.5MPH
Total: 1,793.88

Today is the Fourth of July, and it is now, dear reader, that you will be aware of my trick. Namely that these blogs are, on average, 48 hours old when I upload them. How robbed you must feel in this age of rolling news and first date sex. But we’ve been getting on, right? So let’s move on.


I awoke at The Hoosiers Motel this morning to the grim sight that I have been awaking to nearly every morning of my blessed existence. No, not my morning face, but to that of a grey sky and hard rain when I draw the curtains wide. Today’s weather had been expected though, not due to pessimism, but due to perfunctory forecast checking, and with that knowledge, today started with a smile. This rain was not of the stinging freezing variety that had been so pervasive in New England, but warm, and although heavy, and definitely still wet, not unbearable. In fact, I've grown to enjoy the rain, when you really get going in it on the bike the whole adventure seems more challenging and I feel more defiant. And there's nothing I like more than defying something. Except Betty of course, she's not to be messed about, even it is only for a laugh.

After skirting the corners of the Ohio river and getting some haunting views of Louisville in the rain, I made my way up some pretty tough winding hills where every corner presented a view of road that mirrored the last and this gave me a sense of deja-vu for some time. And this gave me a sense of deja-vu for some time. The only difference being the gradual thickening of the cloud in front of my eyes with every turn. After that main ascent had been conquered I was back to old familiar farmland, the same landscapes that had conjured up images of denim, plaid and chewing tobacco just yesterday, had today sent my memory to thoughts of home, where the fields are lush but moist and always rolling. It’s amazing what sunshine and shadows, or lack of them, can do for an outlook.

I arrived at my hotel early today, this was due to the next sheltered accommodation being 80 miles away in Owensboro, KY. And 130 miles in these conditions with hills was off the cards as much as pitching a tent was.

Linda greeted me at the hotel and when she enquired as to if I was eligible for a discount as a member of AAA or as former military personnel I responded in the negative, only to ask “How about a discount for cross-country cyclists?” as a joke (hilarious, I know). Well, it transpires that they did, actually, because Linda checked the lever-arch file to discover that the likes of me (and me) are entitled to a juicy $20 discount. Who would’ve guessed it? Well, that’ll cover the pizza tonight. And seeing as it’s July Fourth, I might just light a sparkler whilst watching Independence Day.