Today: 75.8 miles - Avg Speed 12.8MPH – Top Speed 33.4MPH
Total: 1,423.7 Miles
It was a rough night in the tent. I was up sweating most of the evening and not for any of the good reasons, well, not for most of them anyway. It was terribly humid and then at 12:30am the predicted storm began in earnest and it continued for three hours straight, the violent skies were lighting up the ground a couple of times a minute and dogs were barking from county to county. It was as conducive to peaceful sleep as arguments in favour of homeopathy are to logic.
I was still up early this morning, though, I won’t let a few Edisonian clouds act as an obstacle in my pursuit of glory. Plus I knew I had to pedal back east for 6 miles to pick up my wallet and I didn’t want to be too delayed, but when I arrived at the supermarket, they couldn’t locate the thing.
“It must be here”, I pleaded. “I had a non-sensical exchange with your manager Tim last night”
“Hold on, hun” said the assistant as she sauntered off to the back room.
It turned out that the wallet had been collected by the local police department so I had to go all of 200 metres to the station to pick it up. I felt like I’d recently done something illegal. Officer Joe Davidson rocked up eventually, and 30 minutes later I was on my way. I made up the 6 miles back west in good time and after I’d passed the campsite I’d stayed at last night I could breathe easy. This was progress. I kept good pace, only stopping for an ice cream in the town of Mifflin. Here I was treated to the largest single dairy product I’ve ever consumed, and the photo doesn’t do it justice as a) half of it tumbled into my corollary spillage cup and b) I’m a terrible photographer. It was truly enormous, twice as large as you see in the image. it was blueberry and cheesecake, too, which are two of my favourite things excluding watching professional football (and this is absolute cack when trying to squeeze in to a cone, I’d recommend a telly or an actual ticket to the event) so I gobbled it up gleefully with absolutely zero guilt. I chatted to some locals for a bit and was delighted to see that both groups guessed I was English, I do hope I’m not subconsciously pronouncing everything with an RP twist to save embarrassment. I would hate to return home sounding all Joss Stone.
I arrived in Frederickstown at about 5pm and had a quick pizza, purely for the carbs, you understand, and there I talked with Dave the owner for a good 30 minutes or so. He was a really lovely chap, like everyone is around here and I was only too happy to converse with him. It was the first meaningful conversation I’d had for some time.
It was only two miles to the campsite, so here I am. The problem is that it’s due to storm again tonight, and when the lady in charge told me that a cabin was only $10 more than a tent space I nearly ripped her arm off (this is a metaphor for my excitement. I’ve little to no interest in procuring the limbs of my hosts). However, now I’m in the cabin and feel like I’m waiting for visitors. It is like a prison. The bed is made of wood with no mattress and all I have are my thoughts, and most of them revolve around rainbows and lego. It’s quite feasible that I may get some tattoos, an orange jump suit and start working out by morning. It’s also feasible I may just read for a bit and watch the rain tumble from the safety of my wooden enclave. We’ll see.
Total: 1,423.7 Miles
It was a rough night in the tent. I was up sweating most of the evening and not for any of the good reasons, well, not for most of them anyway. It was terribly humid and then at 12:30am the predicted storm began in earnest and it continued for three hours straight, the violent skies were lighting up the ground a couple of times a minute and dogs were barking from county to county. It was as conducive to peaceful sleep as arguments in favour of homeopathy are to logic.
I was still up early this morning, though, I won’t let a few Edisonian clouds act as an obstacle in my pursuit of glory. Plus I knew I had to pedal back east for 6 miles to pick up my wallet and I didn’t want to be too delayed, but when I arrived at the supermarket, they couldn’t locate the thing.
“It must be here”, I pleaded. “I had a non-sensical exchange with your manager Tim last night”
“Hold on, hun” said the assistant as she sauntered off to the back room.
It turned out that the wallet had been collected by the local police department so I had to go all of 200 metres to the station to pick it up. I felt like I’d recently done something illegal. Officer Joe Davidson rocked up eventually, and 30 minutes later I was on my way. I made up the 6 miles back west in good time and after I’d passed the campsite I’d stayed at last night I could breathe easy. This was progress. I kept good pace, only stopping for an ice cream in the town of Mifflin. Here I was treated to the largest single dairy product I’ve ever consumed, and the photo doesn’t do it justice as a) half of it tumbled into my corollary spillage cup and b) I’m a terrible photographer. It was truly enormous, twice as large as you see in the image. it was blueberry and cheesecake, too, which are two of my favourite things excluding watching professional football (and this is absolute cack when trying to squeeze in to a cone, I’d recommend a telly or an actual ticket to the event) so I gobbled it up gleefully with absolutely zero guilt. I chatted to some locals for a bit and was delighted to see that both groups guessed I was English, I do hope I’m not subconsciously pronouncing everything with an RP twist to save embarrassment. I would hate to return home sounding all Joss Stone.
I arrived in Frederickstown at about 5pm and had a quick pizza, purely for the carbs, you understand, and there I talked with Dave the owner for a good 30 minutes or so. He was a really lovely chap, like everyone is around here and I was only too happy to converse with him. It was the first meaningful conversation I’d had for some time.
It was only two miles to the campsite, so here I am. The problem is that it’s due to storm again tonight, and when the lady in charge told me that a cabin was only $10 more than a tent space I nearly ripped her arm off (this is a metaphor for my excitement. I’ve little to no interest in procuring the limbs of my hosts). However, now I’m in the cabin and feel like I’m waiting for visitors. It is like a prison. The bed is made of wood with no mattress and all I have are my thoughts, and most of them revolve around rainbows and lego. It’s quite feasible that I may get some tattoos, an orange jump suit and start working out by morning. It’s also feasible I may just read for a bit and watch the rain tumble from the safety of my wooden enclave. We’ll see.
It wasn't me.
Shit picture. Great treat.
Corn to the left of me, Wheat is to the right, here I am stuck on a lonely back road."
"Fallen by the Wayside Park" would be more accurate.
PM or AM!!!!!
waiting for parole.
End of days.
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