Today 75.5 Miles - AVG 12.8MPH - Top Speed 35.5MPH
Total: 1,738.15

Well, today started with a joyous double whammy. Both of which are fit to print.

Firstly, my RV neighbour Louis offered to pick me up something on his morning breakfast run. I, of course, accepted, I was as hungry for food as a small town journalist is for a mass-murder in their local area. Secondly, I realised I hadn’t paid my camping fee the night before. I was on my way to pay it when a sudden thought hit me: Why do that? That’s $23 I could save. So, I didn't. I packed up and just left. Simple. Should I feel bad? That’s not really relevant, because I don’t and no amount of public opinion on the contrary will change my mind. It is my contention that these state parks should have lower fees for those without cars anyway. So, you know, there. 

As I hit the road, I had a diversion as my main route was closed, with that little spanner in the works I took an alternative route. What I couldn't tell until I was halfway up  was that this route had a very large, very long and very steep hill that took 20 minutes to climb. Well, once I'd managed to pump some blood through my veins I reached the summit, and what a treat was in store for me; beautiful winding roads overlooking some marvellous farmlands and to top that, the sky was bright. For now.

On my first pit-stop of the day I got chatting to Steve for a good 20 minutes. He confirmed to me that we were indeed in the South and after offering a $20 donation to mind he also asked some candid questions:

“Now, I can’t help but notice that them shorts are very revealing, d'you ever get any comments”?

Well, I hadn’t as it happens, but I will start to loosen them when I have breaks from now on as I did notice a distinctive shape appearing from the crotch after this question was posed. Thanks for the warning, Steve.

I then travelled over the bridge to Indiana for the afternoon and the first town I hit was Madison. Again, it was picture perfect and had retained plenty of its old world charm. I was nearing the edge of the town concentrating on getting some rhythm going when I looked up to see a man dramatically waving at me by the side of his car. I assumed he had broken down or had noticed I was exceeding the speed limit, which is entirely plausible, but his very first question was “Have you eaten?” Seriously. These were the first words from his mouth. He introduced himself as Steve and his wife Lisa and they explained their son Isaac was also - at this very moment - cycling across the States and that they’d like to buy me lunch. Just like that. Out of the blue. How could I refuse such a generous invitation. Well, I didn’t and we went for a quick sandwich as they told me about their son’s impressive ride (he’s going nearly 100 miles per day) and I told them of mine. A note to my dearest mother: Please, if you see anyone cycling across America whilst you’re at home in Hartley Wintney, can you please take them for lunch. Thanks.

Well from there I went hell for leather to get to Louisville, I had a cycle around the city streets and really liked the look of the place. I had toyed with the idea of going to a baseball game tonight, but the skies opened early and so I pedalled for a room, I will say this, though, I got a bizarre thrill from riding in these conditions as the temperature remained warm. It was fun to ride through the spray. So here I am holed up in a motel nearby. Unfortunately, I had to pay for this one up front.

Today - 74.6 Miles - AVG Speed  - 13.2MPH - Top Speed 32.5MPH
Total: 1,663.00 Miles

The south is now my home. I am not sure whether riding into Kentucky technically constitutes entrance into the lower states of this vast nation, but from what you and I know as the south, this is it.

I started the day bleary-eyed in a Milford park with nowhere available for me to wash and do my business. This business of which I speak has become as reliable and consistent as one of those boring fathers who never drinks or cheats on his wife. This has, in the main, been a blessing as I know when it's coming. but it's also a rotten curse as it cannot be stopped, or delayed. A force unto itself, one might say. With that in mind perhaps I should’ve chosen a less public area in which to camp last night to give my self the best chance of privacy at daybreak. Needless to say, this oversight did not go unpunished; my lack of forward planning gave one elderly early-riser and her Yorkshire terrier the fright of their lives this morning. I’ve never seen six legs change direction so quickly. Then again, the sight of this contorted face attached to a body on its haunches would be enough to shock the most hardened of country hikers.

Dignity firebombed I departed Milford with great speed to avoid any further ignominy and again, I purposefully went off route. I’m becoming quite the rogue cross-country cyclist, but I found a more direct route to tonight’s destination of Carrelston so I took it. This also took me through the city of Cincinnati, which was a very pleasant surprise, as I quite liked the place. Granted, I didn’t hang around long, but visually it was very pleasing, if not a little too corporate in appearance, and from there I crossed the bridge over to Kentucky, and that’s when things were about to change.

Firstly the weather, from the overcast doom-threatening ceiling that cast a shadow over all below in Ohio to the azure blue skies of Kentucky. The change was almost immediate. The town of Covington, KY itself was as far from the gleaming glass structures and enormous stadia of Cincinnati as possible. Small coffee shops and eateries lined streets that had one foot in the 60’s. It was a pleasant town to ride through and then, for the duration of the day the State Road 42 would be home, that meant zero turns for 44 miles. It started much like any other road with the flurry of Arby’s, Pizza Hut and McDonalds’ but the route soon became more rural and with it the Kentucky I had imagined: Fences, horses and churches basically. For miles upon miles this is what my eyes saw punctuated only by steel mills and gas stations. So far, this northern portion of the state is delightful, as are the people. Out are the “buddys” and “pals” from the vernacular of their northern neighbours and in are the “sirs” and “ma’ams” of historical plantations and animated stereotypes. There is a distinct whiff of southern charm here, and although I can’t tell you how it differs from the deep south, the change to a lycra-clad outsider such as myself is very much noticeable. Also noticeable is my new voice. I have slowed to expiring battery on the tape-deck speed in order to be heard. It's not ideal, but it beats stunned faces.

I am settled in a campsite for the evening now. A real one. That means no need for surreptitious bodily excavations first thing. My RV dwelling cohorts have no idea how lucky they are.

P.S. I actually saw this commercial on TV the other night and forgot to inform you all. Isn't it wonderful.

Today 120.9 Miles – AVG 15.9MPH - Top Speed – 30.8 MPH
Total: 1,588.40 Miles

The morning started a little tentatively as Columbus is a tough city to negotiate yourself free from, and by that I mean that those in control of motorized vehicles are total sociopaths. I spent the first 45 minutes obsessively looking over my shoulder more than Edward Snowden on the morning after a Fourth of July rave in Washington DC.

It must be said that it was tough to say goodbye to Bill, Linda and my old friend, Michelle this morning as I had been treated to some home comforts for a couple of days and of course the familiarity of friendship and cordial conversation. Cheers chaps. But if this jaunt has taught me one thing, it’s that this won't be my final experience of such warmth. 

Once I left Ohio's capital I was on another eerily silent state road for a good 30 miles before entering the town of London where I belted out our national anthem with perfect pitch and in perfect posture. I’ll show these Yankees a thing or two about patriotism, I thought. Actually, this didn’t happen, as London looked a little shady, the few locals I saw were rocking from side to side and grunting unintelligibly so I decided to save my voice for another English named city. After I departed our capitals namesake I hit the Miami Scenic Trail. Again, nothing like Miami from what I understand (a distinct lack of Art Deco architecture, sun or cocaine) but unlike London, Ohio (or England, for that matter), it was a pleasure to ride along. Nature in all its glory. I spotted three deer - one of whom I nearly collided with - and countless other creatures. It was also here that I upped my speed, averaging approximately 17MPH until I reached the town of Milford. Today’s total mileage? 120 miles. By far the longest shift in the saddle. And I feel great. A little ache here and there, but knocking so many miles off the clock in one day must be as exhilarating as how sex must feel to a normal man. It certainly compensates for the last couple of days boozing, and shameless freeloading.

Now here I am in Milford, I just had an odd Bolognese dish from a chain called Skyline Chili recommended to me by Mr Jim del Epico. I was a little disappointed unfortunately, so for now, Jim, you’re back to plain old Epic. I also bumped into a lovely chap called Don who wished me the best and even wanted my photo, I have a feeling he had his eyes on Betty, but I think he knew she was taken.

So here I am, sitting on a bench at 9pm typing away as the rain pellets begin to fall on my head and the old familiar rumble of thunder is audible in the distance. Hold on…

…I’m in the tent now, the rain is getting heavier and I have a feeling I’m in for another night of storms. How frustrating as I was enjoying watching the countless light sparks from the fireflies from my former wooden perch. Well, please pray that I’m not swept away by morning so I’m able to enjoy them another night.

A short note on excrement:
The smell of poo reminds me of my father. Whenever I smell fecal matter that was extracted from a beast I am reminded of the man whose seed allowed this Lycra Cowboy to flourish into the machine he is today. This is because for much of my youth he lived opposite a mushroom farm where the primary fertiliser of choice was horse manure and whenever I would visit his house I would be greeted by the fumes from the farm across the way. Early on this stench forced me to wretch, but after time I grew familiar with the odour and almost found comfort in it. 

Early on during this trip I would revisit that same feeling of revulsion from my early days, but, as time has worn on I have begun to appreciate it once more. Now it conjures up images of freedom and the open road. In short, my acclimatisation to the smell of farms is synonymous with my mood in general. I'm getting used to life without the mod-cons and and I can now truly appreciate the great outdoors come rain or shine. And if all it takes is enjoying the smell of shit to realise that, then so be it.

40.2 Miles - Avg 13.2MPH - Top Speed 24.6MPH

Total: 1,467.5
I awoke in my cell halfheartedly plotting revenge on the crafty soul who had me wrongfully incarcerated, it was some time before I realised I was free to leave of my own free will. It was a gloomy morning, the sky still spitting out decidedly British drizzle for a good hour or two, but you know me by now. I can handle it.

A short day was on the cards, as in the evening I would be staying with Bill & Linda, who are the parents of a good friend of mine. I took my time with the ride gliding over the hills and through the farmlands of Ohio which looked all the more beautiful as the skies broke and the sun came out to play. As I came into the Greater Columbus area (Columbus is the capital and largest city in Ohio with 800,000 people swarming the streets) I noticed a dramatic change in the way drivers treated a lowly cyclist such as myself, and that was with disdain or just downright ignorance. I was beeped at twice and had to hold my own, Betty bucked a few times, too, but she kept her wits about her. She always does. The roads were of the identikit city outskirt model I had expected around the bigger cities, plenty of big name shops and fast food restaurants. I went through miles of roads that had these stores flanking the pathways and it left me wondering "What exactly is this city for?"

When I found my way to Bill & Linda's house - which was number 5415 on one of those eternal roads they have out here - I was treated to a familiar warm welcome. Even if that warm welcome was a sweaty one from Bill who had been upstairs fixing a dodgy faucet with the help of his able bride. I soon discovered that Bill's usefulness wasn't confined to amateur plumbing, but also to woodwork. I was shown some of Bill's handiwork from over the decades and marvelled, as I always do, at anyone who can produce such craft with their hands. But the real surprise was Bill's incredible carpentry room in the basement. It is on an industrial level, the man has three lathes. Three! I didn't even know how to spell lathe until a matter of moments a go. 

Well, feeling terribly useless as a penis carrying member of society I settled down for a taste of my ancestral home with a suspiciously Irish looking stew and began to relax when noticing a severe numbness in my left hand which I have self diagnosed as Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and a creaky knee which I have diagnosed as Shit Knee Syndrome.

On my day off I went into downtown Columbus to experience Comfest, a free annual music festival in Columbus' Goodale Park. Here we soaked up some live jazz, bare breasts and cold beers and it was great to see a city in this part of this country behaving so liberally, I guess I just shouldn't get too used to it.